


Worth It

by mynameispiaivy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Boyfriends, College, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, Panic Attacks, Poor Mickey Milkovich, Recreational Drug Use, Rich Ian Gallagher, Riding, Rimming, Teenagers, Train Rides, up to their 20s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 166,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameispiaivy/pseuds/mynameispiaivy
Summary: It's the story of a boy who chose to stay and the boy who let him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 223
Kudos: 154





	1. Somebody Warm

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first Gallavich Fic and I really, genuinely love them. I just love how these characters have touched so many people with how pure and patient their love is. 
> 
> \- shout out to Shannon, Jax and Pam. thank you for accepting me in this fandom.  
> \- to Flo, thanks for enjoying Shameless with me. we found another common thing my friend.  
> \- to my gc girls.. hhheeeyyyy!!  
> \- and to my own personal idiot. A, we still got it, yeah?

August 17, 2006

10:12 AM

Mickey jumped out of the truck hurriedly, his feet hitting the pavement with a thud. It had been the longest summer morning in New York, and it hadn’t even hit midday yet. They made their rounds from Canal street, West Broadway to Hudson street, and yet he couldn’t get out of this weird funk he’d been in for the past few hours. Joe kept on hollering at him to shake it off, do some stretching or something. He just… he couldn’t get his hands and limbs to work with him. Mickey kept dropping things on the street, a broken lamp, a few bottles of merlot, which in his opinion was not his fault, since the asshole who put it inside the bag didn’t have half a mind to put it at least inside a box or wrap it with newspaper so if it slipped out of the garbage bag, it wouldn’t fucking break into pieces. God damn, if only these yuppy aristocratic douchebags had a bit of common sense, they would have made Mickey's life a little bit easier. He even had this moment of regret over a couple of broken jars, that he thought would have looked good in his apartment, not that he needed it or that it would look good in his newly acquired aesthetic of minimalism slash deconstructed concept that he’d read from various design blogs that he had been secretly reading for the past few weeks. But he just thought, hey these bourgeois garbage could work well in the small space that he recently acquired in Chelsea. The moment he heard the first crack of the neck of the clay bamboo jars, he knew they were done for. _Fuck_. The heat of the sun was making it more difficult for Mickey to stay calm, not that his already sweaty overalls were helping. With the new sheen of sweat dripping from his hairline down his face, he sure as hell knew this day wouldn’t get better.

“Mick, what the fuck?” Joe shouted at him. “Put your hips into it, boy. Carry those god damn bags with your hips and legs, not with your back!”

“Fuck you, I’m doing the best I can. You want to trade places, old man? I don’t see you carrying no shit.” he yelled back to his partner of two years.

Him and Joe had been working together ever since he’d decided to live on his own, when all his resources had been exhausted. Mickey could hardly believe his luck when he got the job, the exact day he realized he only had three dollars in his pocket. All the savings he’d made as a child and a runaway from foster homes, he thought he'd struck gold getting the job as a garbage man. To be honest, he thought Joe took pity on him, all his scrappy sixteen year old self, who almost begged for the job even though he had no experience to speak of and told the manager he’d vouch for him. As if the old man knew who he was or where he came from.

He could see Joe eyeing him from the side mirror. Mickey knew he was acting like a petulant child, like a dumb ass who thought he could give his mind or two to his old friend. Mickey pursed his lips and gave his partner a thumbs up just as he hoisted the big black bag to the truck, but not before double checking that the bag was tied securely. He walked around the truck and knocked on the door before opening it, “All done Joe, let's head home.” he exclaimed. Mickey yanked the door, pulled himself up and sat beside the old man. 

“One more stop, kid. We got to head out to Canal street and do this favor for the boss. He just texted me that there’s a big chunk of garbage we need to pick up before we head back to the Pier.”

Mickey was about to throw a fit when Joe exclaimed, “Fifteen minutes tops, Mick, and then we’re out. Says there's going to be a few furnitures and boxes for the missus. Don’t know why he had to ask us to get ‘em when he’s got his assistants with him running around like clowns in the office.”

“That’s because he knew you wouldn't say no for shit, Joe. C’mon, it’s been a long morning and my back is killing me.”

“Well who told you to carry those boxes in that preppy Law School for god’s sake! You always insisted on getting them for yourself from that Brandon boy! You know he’s just messing with you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m not blind, Mickey and I’m certainly not stupid.”

“He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly my ass. He’s got your panties on a twist and you know it.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Son, I’ve been around these kinds of people all my life. If you got no six figure salary or a house that has a white picket fence to your name, they’ll not give you a time of day. Just… stay in your lane, boy. You don’t need that bullshit in your life.”

Mickey wanted to say he’s not some doe-eyed dreamer who doesn’t know how the system works. He knew them bottom dwellers shouldn’t be fraternizing with guys with well coiffed hair, wearing light blue button-ups and khaki pants, with their well manicured nails, brown moccasins and Tissot watches. His three year old Seiko would never. But whenever Brandon gave him that smile, that pretty smirk as he walked up to the Joe Plumeri Center, his knees suddenly buckled, like it had that momentary burst of firing from his spine to the peroneal nerve. He often told himself that he just needed to get laid. Fuck, he can’t even remember the last time he had a warm body beneath him, less so over him. 

“You just don’t get it, Joe.”

“Kid, you’re what.. eighteen, almost nineteen. You got somewhere to go? Why are you young ones always in a hurry? I met my Ivy when I was twenty five, and we’ve been married for thirty two years.”

“It’s only flirting, Joe. C’mon, can’t a guy just enjoy that?”

“Flirting then what? Hooking up, then sleep overs and then when he realizes this is all you’ve got, what? He’ll drop your pretty face for another pretty face who’s stupid enough to fall for his cheeky smile. Mick, you’re like a son to me. Who else is gonna give you life lessons and shit?”

He didn’t say anything after that. Mickey unzipped his shoulder pocket and pulled out his almost empty Camels. He put one stick on his lips and lit it up, inhaling the smoke into his lungs as deeply as he could, until he felt his chest burning, but not quite. Joe just huffed as he pressed the button on his side to put his window down, turned on the ignition as they headed out to their last stop. Mickey let the smoke escape his mouth slowly, his mind wondering, thinking of what his friend just told him. He looked out the window and saw couples walking down the street, hand in hand as they chatted leisurely without a care in the world. There might be some who he saw walking alone, with their phones in their hands, even some who were walking with their dogs or child in tow. But he knew, for sure, that these people had somebody waiting for them somewhere, at one point in their lives, who they knew had liked them enough to hold hands with, or share a cheeky smile with.

_________

August 16, 2006

11:52 PM

There was someone’s hands on his hips. His warbled mind couldn’t tell if he wanted to slap it away or just let his body press back, feel the warmth of this person envelop him as they gyrate to the loud roar of the music. The bass thumped rhythmically, making his skin tingle from head to toe. Ian wasn't even sure if it was the music or the shots of tequila that was making him feel like mush. It was his birthday, thank you very much, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Ian felt mawkish. He had this sudden urge to cry and scream that this wasn’t enough. His parents didn’t even care enough to check up on him. Not even a phone call or text to greet him. They just left him alone for weeks in this outdated hotel, telling him he could invite his friends over whenever he wanted. Did he even have friends in this god forsaken city? His last name in itself would attract anybody’s attention. _Gallagher._ As in The Arthur J. Gallagher and Company, Gallagher. Being one of the grandsons of one of the most successful insurance brokerage company in the world, of-fucking-course he’ll get friends just about anywhere and anytime. But for now, he just wanted to get laid and forget how fucked up his life is.

He turned around to look at the warm body behind him. Ian had no idea who he was, but if his erection had anything else to say to him tonight, he doesn’t god damn care.

“Hi.” he purred to the blonde with the hazel eyes in front of him.

“Hi.” he smiled back at him.

He had a nice smile. A bit crooked, but he’d do.

“Happy birthday.” 

Ian rested his head against his wide shoulders and suddenly felt a wave or something in his gut. His body was so fucking hot and cold at the same time. Ian started breathing through his nose, his whole upper body slumping on the man’s front. The guy wound his arms around him, supporting his whole body weight. He thought to himself, _alright Ian_ . _You got this, just slowly get some oxygen into your lungs, god damn it. Will your body to respond right the fuck now._ He didn’t need to start any conversation with the man. All he had to do was grab his hand and push him to whatever available room is in the suite. _He’s quite tall_ , he mused to himself. A few inches taller than his six feet stature. Ian usually preferred shorter guys, but tonight, he didn’t care. Just as long as this guy would get the job done…fast.

“Thank you.” He looked up, trying to place his face somewhere. Ian didn’t know him and he was okay with that.

“So?”

“So?” Ian cupped his crotch and yeah, he liked what his hand felt. “You want t-- uuummpph.”

With one violent contraction of his stomach, he retched congealed contents of his stomach to the man’s last season’s, off the rack Burberry sweater. Ian tried to stop it by putting the palm of his hands to his mouth, and stop spewing more viscous chunks of fluid from his mouth. As the offending vomitus splattered to the poor man’s top, Ian dropped to the floor.

“What the fuck?” the man shouted.

He dropped his hands quickly, his knees hitting the floor before his hands did. Ian could hear the guy shouting profanities at him. He couldn't care less what he was saying, all he could think of is he needed to remind himself to pay for the guy’s dry cleaning. The people around him were gasping and making horrified noises as his body dry heaved one more time before he could feel his arm being pulled by somebody. 

“Jesus, Ian.” The voice sounds familiar. His muddy mind trying to remember who it was. Was it Peter? No, it sounded more of Johnson.

“Sir, please get up. We need to clean you up.” Johnson, his father’s personal assistant who was now his bodyguard who apparently had now stepped down to being his caretaker. Fuck his life.

“Get everybody out.” Ian kept his head down as his limp body was pulled up by his impromptu nanny. “Johnson, Get everybody out now!”

“Yes sir.”

Ian heard Johnson calling for Peter and Brett to hit the lights and announce the party’s over. He could tell there were a lot of movements around him. Heels clattering, some high end sneakers squeaking as people were haphazardly let out to the door.

At his periphery, he could see some gifts from whatever random people he invited. Ian didn’t have the heart to open any single one of them. Even if these were hundreds of dollars worth of items he didn’t need or desire, he just wanted everything out. These were only trash to him anyway. Fuck if he cared if one of them might be a gift from his Mom and Dad. He didn’t care. Nobody cared for him.

After a few minutes, when he got the strength to look up and see the chaos he and his so called friends had created, he said slowly to the man holding him up, “Johnson, thank you. Get me to my room. You guys can take anything you want from the gifts. Give it to your daughter, I don't care. I just want everything out and in the trash by morning.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a wip, in case y’all don’t know. please do stay and venture with Ian and Mickey as they find and experience blissful and lasting love. i am @piyatot09 on twitter and @missrefridgefreetorator and @iloveredmondsdaddy on tumblr.


	2. Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one has a hangover, the other found something pretty and he's keeping it.

  
  


August 17, 2006

11:11 AM

  
  


“Jesus Christ. Which highbred princess had a hissy fit and threw all these away?” Mickey blurted out once he saw the multiple unopened boxes, that looked more like birthday presents laying neatly at the backdoor of the Le Coucou Hotel.

Him and Joe started loading up the crates in the truck, carefully placing them at the back seat. Some which couldn't fit inside, they had to haul up onto the roof. Mickey began tying them together with the nylon rope they had, his hands expertly doing shipperman’s knots with each crate. They just had to keep the windows down, he thought to himself. Wouldn't want these god forsaken boxes to start dropping like flies while they were en route to Manhattan bridge. 

As he finished securing all the crates and wiped away the sweat from his neck, he could feel himself getting more angry and tired by the minute. Mickey could feel his shirt soaked in unwarranted perspiration from the long morning of walking to and from buildings, lugging boxes, plastic containers, black trash bags from restaurants, offices, apartment complexes and now this pretentious looking hotel. Who needs AC right? It’s fucking ninety eight degrees in New York, and he just had to send a silent prayer that this day wouldn’t get any worse than it already was. There was a growing discomfort in his groin, it was warmer than the mother fucking equator, and Mickey was not happy.

“So the boss’ wife wants them all, huh? She throwing another quinceanera for Sophia?” 

“Who knows, the boss just said to get them all and bring it to the office cause the missus wants them.”

“Rich people are weird as fuck.”

“You could see the haul Gary had a week ago. There were even some of those Nikes you've been raving about in the trash. He said those don't even look like the knock off ones that my son got on ebay.”

“For real? God damn, old man. You should've swiped one for me.”

“You wanna look before we get these to the boss? Maybe they have something we can sell for craps.”

Mickey had been eyeing one brown globe trotter bag that he saw in one of the crates. There was a monogram on it, it spelled ICG. He thought maybe there could be some clothes in it, or even shoes or watches. Honestly, he didn’t give a damn, all he could think of was when his hands brushed over the dark leather was how rich it felt on his fingertips. Mickey tried hard to sway Joe’s attention to the other items, pointing at the biggest box with the red bow. He coaxed his old friend to go for it, telling him that for sure it’d be a score, that maybe there’d be some custom made suits inside that he could sell for hundreds of dollars. The possibilities of them raking in money if they stashed a few items for themselves would be big, no he actually said _Fucking Huge, Joe_. Both of them giggling like school children with the many possibilities. 

“Okay, but I want that one, Joe.” he casually said out loud.

“What kid?”

“That one. The Luggage.” he pointed at the item on back seat.

“You want a monogrammed luggage for yourself?” His friend raised an eyebrow at him as he stepped up to the truck to peek at the leather bag on the back seat. Joe stepped down with a small jump then placed his hand on the door handle, opening it a few inches to look at Mickey. “Mick, did it ever occur to you that wherever you take that, those initials would raise red flags everywhere? You are Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. MAM. That’s your initials, just in case you forgot about your alphabet. It certainly is not ICG. And those initials are not just engraved on an ordinary bag. That bag looked like it was made from real leather. With your mug and that bag, the TCA would think you stole this or something.”

“You’re just jealous I called dibs on it first.”

“Yeah sure, Mick. I’m jealous. Tell me that when you’re called in for questioning by the police, and all you got in your phone is my number to get your sweet ass outta that mess. You’re fucked once the owner starts looking for that bag.”

“You’re such a buzzkill, Joe. As if I have plans to go somewhere soon.”

“I know how you go, Mick. I still remember you ghosting my son’s friend for days after he said he forgave you and wanted you back. The fuck you had to run to Chicago for and not tell me where you were? Ivy almost called the cops on you.”

March 15, 2006

9:01 PM

“Brian said he won’t be home til’ midnight. You want to go again?”

Mickey looked at the ceiling, as he tried to remember why he agreed on going out with Nathan. Sure he trusted Brian, heck he even considered him a brother for fuck’s sake. But man, this hookup is turning into something he wasn’t sure he was cut out for.

_That night, he drove almost an hour to get to Jersey, with his borrowed beat up Corolla slowly cruising along the Hudson tunnel, his CD Dusk and Summer blasting through his stereo. He had about three minutes and twenty four seconds of uninterrupted singing of Stolen before he decided on doing it again for the fourth time in a row. Brian texted him the address of the restaurant._ **_Nizi Sushi._ ** _Jesus, he couldn’t imagine coughing up twenty dollars to get a fucking raw fish down his throat. The moment he stepped in the sushi place, he knew it was a mistake._

“Yeah, sure. I still have another condom in my wallet. Lemme..” he extended his arm to the side table, getting the pocket in his wallet and the lube. Mickey dropped a few dollops of the clear liquid on his fingertips when Nathan grabbed his wrist. 

“You don’t need to open me up. I’m still pretty loose from before.” Nathan said as he fluttered his eyes at him.

“Uhm.. kay. Okay.” Mickey pumped his cock a few times, hard and fast to get it to a semi-respectable hard state. He rolled the condom on his barely flaccid dick, smoothing the lube down his shaft. With one hand on his dick, he moved his body sideways, lifting his right leg over his left, ready to mount the already pliant Nathan. 

Mickey tried to turn the guy’s body on his back when he said, “I want to see you. I want you to fuck me while I’m on my back.”

“Okay... Alright, whatever you want.” He just wanted to get it over with. Every fiber in his body was telling him, just say no. You need to get home so you won’t get stuck in traffic. Fuck, who was he kidding, there wouldn’t be anybody out in the streets once he was out of this apartment. Out of Jersey.

Mickey fucked Nathan, as fast as his body could will it. He started counting the thrusts he was making, trying to distract himself from the intense stare the boy below him was giving him. 

The thing is, he just didn’t do this. He was the ‘let’s fuck and not see each other or talk or hang out and watch Netflix’ kind of guy. Brian told him it would be a simple hook up, that’s all there was to it. But no, Nathan had to be the guy who would call you after the first date, and tell you he enjoyed himself so much that you guys need to do it again soon. The guy who would call you every night and tell you about the exam that he surely bombed, or ask you how your work was, even though he knew your job was collecting garbage from upper statesmen who for sure would not give Mickey or Joe a second glance at any time of the day. Or the kind of guy who would come to your workplace with your lunch in hand. No, Mickey didn’t do that. He didn’t even top anymore, goddamn it. He’d only done it a couple times when he was younger, when his inexperience as a gay boy in Brooklyn forced him to try it out. Why did everybody have to assume that he was a top just because he acted and talked a certain way? This.. was a mistake and Nathan was acting like a boyfriend. No, God no. He was not remotely into that.

“Where are you? Look at me Mickey.” Nathan huffed as he chased his orgasm. “Kiss me, Mick. Fuck, I’m so close.”

_They ordered a couple of appetizers, a spicy salmon roll, Mike’s roll (which Nathan’s said it’s to die for), a rainbow roll, and they both decided to share a salad. He even said since it was his birthday a couple of days ago, he’d be treating him with a special birthday ice cream. Mickey looked at his date. He could say the guy he was with right now was very pretty, if you’re into that. Petite, maybe about five foot five inches tall, small built, with dirty blonde hair. His bangs were swept to the side, revealing a very well kept set of eyebrows. Nathan had hazel eyes with thick, curled eyelashes. He was quite sure the guy was wearing make-up. Mickey could tell when Nathan was looking down at the menu, he noticed his eyelids had that sparkly pinkish sheen on them. Nathan was holding the menu with his small hands, his pinky finger extended as he flipped through the book. Mickey was wondering, did Brian even know his type when he set up this date?_

“Are you close. Fuck, fuck. Babe I’m..” Mickey felt Nathan’s body still and just like that, he started spilling on his flat stomach, while Mickey perfectly faked his own orgasm. He rode him until he was sure the aftershocks of Nathan’s climax had subsided. Mickey pulled out and hastily tried to find the nearest bin to stash the condom away. 

“Hey, hey,” Nathan called out to him as he flipped over the bed. “Did you cum?”

“Yeah, yeah. That was so good.” Mickey turned his head, trying to find the trash can. “Fuck Nathan, that was spectacular.” One by one he tried to get his clothes off the floor.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, fuck. Yeah.” He grabbed his boxers and pulled it up his legs. “I just need to...”

“Let me see the condom?”

“Shit, what? That’s not right. So unhygienic.” Mickey almost tripped getting his pants up his hips, “Let me just find a bin or maybe.. Yeah, I’ll just flush it down the toilet.” 

Mickey made a mad dash to the bathroom, as Nathan called out to him. 

_Fuck._

_Shit._

Nathan started knocking on the bathroom door, asking Mickey to let him in. In a haste, he flushed the condom in the toilet. He pushed the lever down. Nothing. He pushed it again. Nothing. _Fuck._ Mickey tried four more times before he gave up and just took the condom out of the toilet bowl and wrapped it in toilet paper before throwing it out of the window. He washed his hands quickly then finished dressing up. He opened the door just as Nathan was about to do another round of his knocking. Nathan stood with his naked self in front of Mickey, his eyes seething, like he wanted to burn Mickey to the ground.

“Did you fake it?

“What are you talking about? I just went in to pee.”

“But where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The condom, Mick. Where is the fucking condom?”

“I threw it away, Nathan. That’s what you do with used condoms.”

“Did you have your spunk in it?”

“Of course it did.”

“You didn’t cum asshole.”

“Who said I didn't? You were amazing, Nathan. As always.” Mickey smoothed his hands over Nathan’s small shoulders. 

“You’re a fucking liar. You didn’t make that face. That fucking face that you make before you cum. The I-just-saw-Jesus-H.-Christ-walking-over-the-mother-fucking-Hudson-River Face _._ ”

“Nathan,” Mickey soothed, “Don’t spite my Lord and Savior like that.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out now. I wanna see where you hid it.”

“What is your obsession with my jizz and that goddamn condom?”

Mickey got out of the way as Nathan pushed him to the side and started rummaging through the bathroom. With the misfortune of a rat crossing Washington street, the bin was actually empty. 

“Mickey, the thing is empty.” Nathan turned his head from the toilet bowl to the tub. Eyes darting wildly to every nook of the small space. Mickey saw the moment Nathan lifted his face towards the window. “Ha!” and proceeded to walk two steps over the tub, extending his hand out of the window, which apparently has a small wooden panel below it. When Nathan got a hold of the wrapped tissue paper, his fingers curled on the ball of regret and mistake Mickey just made, in exactly four seconds, Mickey was out the door, promising himself that he wouldn’t be coming back to this apartment complex ever again. 

_________

August 17, 2006

11:28 AM

“Johnson?” Ian croaked. His dry mouth was sticky with thick saliva. He tried again, “Johnson?” 

He licked his lips, with little to no moisture in his tongue. His lips remained cracked and coated with some dried up liquid. Ian got a whiff of his breath. _Phew._ What the fuck was that? He brought a hand to his mouth, tried brushing off the offending smell off his lips. 

Everything hurt. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, fuck even his throat hurt from wretching last night. At least the curtains were close. His eyes couldn’t handle anything bright or sunny. Ian rolled on his side, bringing his wobbly legs off the bed. Once on his feet, the room started to sway, his arm instinctively reaching for the nightstand. He pulled himself up, taking advantage of the stationary furniture that his hand was gripping. 

“Johnson”

It was too quiet. All he was hearing was the ringing in his ears and loud pounding inside his head. Ian walked unsteadily out of his room towards the kitchen. 

“Johnson? Brett.. Peter? Where the fuck is everybody?”

A few more steps and he found himself at the hallway leading to the front door. He needed water, a couple of Tylenol too if they had it in the cupboards. Just as he was about to return back to the kitchen, the door opened and three burly men, clad in their ordinary clothes, came inside the three bedroom suite. All of them were idly chit chatting about nothing when the tallest one noticed his pathetic figure looming on the juncture of the kitchen and entry hallway.

“Sir, Ian. You’re up?” Brett said. 

“It seems so. Where have you guys been?” He raspily replied. Ian really needed to drink water right now, or his voice would be shot all day.

“We got all the things you asked to be discarded and placed in the trash, Sir.” Johnson answered as he approached him. “Here Sir, let me help you to the kitchen.”

Ian weakly nodded as he let his bodyguard maneuver him to a stool in the kitchen. Johnson was moving swiftly. He got a bottle of Evian from the fridge then placed it on the island table where Ian was sitting, a couple tablets of Tylenol from one of the cabinets, placing them in a tiny saucer. Johnson placed them beside the water bottle and then briskly walked out of the room. At the corner of his eye, he saw Peter calling the concierge for room service, efficiently telling them that Ian’s room needed to be cleaned, the sheets changed and food delivered in under thirty minutes. Brett was carefully pulling out his blue fleece Ralph Lauren sweatpants with matching hoodie from the walk-in closet where his luggages was. Ian wanted to take a long bath. Along with his candles, essential oils and epsom salt. He remembered putting them inside his globe trotter luggage, that he had custom made and engraved. Paul Smith assured him he was the only one in Manhattan, heck even the whole of America, to own such a piece. It was truly one of a kind, he’d said. It very well be, Ian thought to himself. With a price tag of four thousand three hundred and sixty one dollars, it should've been named the Ian Clayton Gallagher bag for Christ's sake.

“Brett, can you kindly get the candles from my Paul Smith luggage. The one I put beside the guest bathroom with all my candles, oils and incense.” 

The tall man whipped his head fast, it would surprise Ian if the man didn't get whiplash. “Sir?”

“Yeah, the brown leather rectangular luggage with my initials on it.” Ian peaked from his folded arm where his head rested.

“Uhmm..” 

He saw Brett’s eyes widen, his breathing became labored. The tall man started looking around the room, his eyes reaching Peter who was still cradling the phone’s handset in his left hand. Both men did a silent nod then they were sprinting out of the room.

“Wait, what’s going on?” He followed them, his feet staggering to keep up. “Wait!”

Ian followed them blindly, both men walking fast going to the elevator at the end of the hallway. There were only two rooms on the floor, but the length of the hallway going to the lone elevator seemed endless with the stupored state he was in.

“Brett, what the fuck is going on?” 

“Sir, I.. I didn’t know.” Brett kept pushing on the B on the panel. “Sir the luggage.”

Ian grabbed the man who was persistently pushing the button as if it would make them go to the basement faster. “Stop it. Just tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Sir Ian,“ Peters softly utters, “The brown leather luggage.. We sort of put in the trash.”

“You what?”

“It’s all my fault. I thought everything in the living room, all the boxes you told us to put away..” Brett nervously says, “were garbage. You specifically told us to throw everything away. And you didn’t even care where we put all of it.”

Ian’s headache was coming back in full throttle. He put his arm out to the wall, palms planting flatly to the cold surface. Breath in, breath out. That's what his therapist always told him. To try and breathe in as much oxygen from his nose, make it stay inside his lungs as long as he could, before releasing it slowly through his mouth. Ian did it two times before he spared a look at Brett.

“Alright. It was an honest mistake. I should’ve put all my things in my room before I threw that fucking party last night. Let’s just get it back, okay. Before the damn sanitation department starts their rounds in the area.” 

After about seven seconds, the doors of the elevator opened to an underground garage where all the trucks for deliveries and the cars of hotel staff were parked. At the end of the long, wide space are four blue large refuse bins that two men were rummaging at. 

“Sir, we're here.”

Ian bolted out the door even before Brett or Peter took the first step. 

“Stop!”

They were still a few meters away from the bins. The two men carefully putting all his gifts inside the crate were busy talking with each other, oblivious of his sudden anxiety and dire need to get his luggage. With all the frenzy going on, all three of them were almost runned down by a delivery truck that came halting a few feet in front of them.

“Hey, get out of the way, idiots!”

Peter stopped Ian with his hand to his chest and let the driver take a slow turn to park his truck. Brett took a few steps back, scanning the area, trying to figure out if they could take another route to the garbage bins.

“Peter, there!” He pointed to his right side, where an inclined platform he assumed to be for Handi-movers and carts to be wheeled off was. “Let’s go.” 

Ian followed his men, using his arms and legs to pull him up the raised inclined platform. He was getting breathless and just so damn tired. He shouted, “Stop what you’re doing.” to nobody. Like he was talking to himself. “Just stop.” he huffed then fell on the pavement, his knees hitting the floor hard.

Peter saw him stumble. He went back to Ian, concern written all over his face. “Sir. We’ll let Brett take care of it. I’ll just stay with you.” his driver told him, as he took his left arm and lifted him off the ground. 

Ian didn’t have any energy left in him. He was severely dehydrated and hungry and just.. he needed a break. Ian let Peter carry him sideways, his right arm looped around his waist. His head lolled to the side to see Brett reaching the bins as the garbage truck was departing. With one last ounce of strength, he shouted softly “Stop.” as everything faded to black.

  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***there are streets, places and even a tunnel in NYC which I just googled and have no idea if they have already existed at that time. I apologize to New Yorkers, I am no way well adept to how the distances are, time travel or the exact locations of some mentioned establishments. They just work in my head, teehee. And also, they all look pretty.  
> ***are you feeling how close Ian and Mickey are going to meet? I just hope it's not in a precinct or a police station. coz yikes! stay with me babes, I truly hope til the end. thanks for the kudos and comments, btw. I'm so floored!


	3. Miss T and her People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you don't wanna mess with Miss T and her people. no siree.

August 17, 2006

4:48 PM

Ian is tired.. no, he was tired. He’d been up for fifteen minutes now, and he was now wide awake, hungry, parched and quite frankly, angry. Angry at the tall guy he was dancing with last night. Angry at Brett for losing his custom made luggage. Angry at fucking Johnson for not double checking his stuff, if all the things he actually cared about were accounted for. Angry at Peter for carrying him like an infant while they were going back to his room. The whole God damn staff and some guests saw how pathetic he looked. Ian was also angry with his parents for not even calling or texting him about his birthday. He was eighteen years old now, God damn it. Legally he could do whatever he wanted. He could actually vote, buy his own property, could sign any legal document without the knowledge of his parents, he could buy stocks from other businesses that his family didn’t own. Maybe he should buy stocks from this Facebook app he’d been hearing about. Ian didn’t understand this social media shit. His friends told him it will surely revolutionize the way people interact on the internet. Fuck, all he needs are the chatrooms in AOL. That’s where he always get his next hook up. Come to think of it, did Jason message him back? His mind was getting side tracked the more he got angrier and anxious. Yes, he could also get his own dog or cat. He could drink liquor now too. Okay well, not in America, he thought. But who was he kidding, he’d been drinking since he was fourteen. Ian could even get married for fuck’s sake. Did his parents think he would never do anything with the inheritance that he knew he was entitled to by the age of eighteen. _Eighteen_. Fuck. Ian was already getting extremely anxious and agitated for nothing. He then remembered his lost luggage. _God damn it, Brett._

“Johnson.” he said on the phone. “Can you get me the number of the New York Sanitation Department? I need to find my luggage.”

“Sir, I already did that while you were sleeping. I got the number of the actual district garage where your luggage may have been brought. I can call the office for you if you want me to.”

“No, I’ll do it. Let me just get a pen.”

“Alright, Sir. I can provide you the number, just tell me when you’re ready.”

Ian sat up from the bed and walked to his dresser. He got a hold of a company pen, his grandfather’s company and his father’s name emblazoned on the side. Ian looked at the pen for a few seconds, thinking he would never work for his father as long as he lived. He refused to be controlled by this megalomaniac or his fucking cronies. Not now, not ever. He grabbed a paper towel and said to Johnson, “Okay, tell me the number.”

_“Solid Waste and Management, District Two Division this is Tricia, how may I help you.”_

_“Good afternoon, my name is Ian Gallagher and I think one of my personal belongings, a beloved item, if I may say so, has been mistakenly taken by one of your employees.”_

_“What do you mean mistakenly taken, Mister..”_

_“Gallagher. Yes, a custom made luggage that I have just procured was taken by one of your garbage collectors in the hotel where I am staying.”_

_“Alright, you said mistaken, Am I correct Mr. Gallagher?”_

_“Yes. You see, one of my people accidentally threw them in the garbage bin in my hotel. And well, they wouldn't have known it was a personal item of mine.. actually, it has my initials on the middle upper part of the luggage. ICG, those are my initials. And you can very well see it engraved on the luggage.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“And well, I would wish to have it back.”_

_“And you did say your ‘People’ threw it in the garbage bin, am I right Mr. Gallagher?”_

_“Well, yes. But..”_

_“So it wasn’t a mistake then. My ‘People’ took your custom made luggage on the assumption that everything in the garbage bin is trash. Am I right, Mr. Gallagher?”_

_“No, you don’t understand. This luggage is worth four thousand three hundred and sixty one dollars.”_

_“And?”_

_“I want to have it back.”_

_“Mr. Gallagher, did it ever occur to you that your priced luggage may have been mistakenly taken by other persons and not my ‘people’?”_

_“Are you saying my own employees or the hotel staff have taken my luggage?”_

_“All I'm saying, Mr. Gallagher, is there are other likely persons who may have taken your luggage and not suspect the good men that work in my office.”_

_“Look..”_

_“Mr. Gallagher. It is almost time for me to leave the office. We are only open from nine o’clock in the morning until five in the afternoon. You have exactly two minutes of my time before I am legally entitled to hang up and wish you to have a good rest of the day. Two minutes.”_

_“All I want are names of the garbage men who collected the trash this morning because I am certain they have my luggage.”_

_“Are you saying they stole from you, Mr. Gallagher.”_

_“Yes, they fucking did stole my luggage!”_

_“Watch your language Mr. Gallagher. May I remind you, everyone is innocent until proven guilty. That is a legal right by every man, woman, child in this country, a human right in the international laws. No one stole anything from you. All the items in the trash bins in every home, apartment complex, schools, hospitals and business establishments are presumed trash and are to be taken to a landfill for disposal, recycling and possibly for incineration after collection. If I may suggest, please reprimand your ‘people’ with their mistakes instead of inflicting suspicions to the employees of this office. Good Day, Mr. Gallagher. I hope I have answered your query. Goodbye.”_

_“Wait.”_

**CLICK**

___________

August 17, 2006

12:39 PM

“Hey Miss T, how you doing?” Mickey slid into the chair in front of his favorite receptionist’s table. Mrs. Patricia Browning, Miss T as they all fondly call her, had been working in the department for forty one years. Mickey loved talking to her before he left for the day. Not only because Miss T sometimes gave him her well renowned chocolate apple crumble or her caramel shortbread, but also because he liked talking to her. To Mickey, she reminded him of his grandmother, not that he had a lot of memories with her, but he liked the idea of somebody doting on him. It made Mickey feel like he had a family.

“Hi, baby. Have you had your lunch yet? I have a cheesy tuna casserole in the fridge, made an extra batch for you and Joe. It’s in a white Tupperware with your names on it.”

“Sweet! Yeah, okay thanks Miss T.” He then hugged the woman. Giving her a quick peck on the temple. 

“What have you got there, Mick?”

“Oh, shit. Check it out.” Mickey brought the luggage to the older woman’s desk. “Some loaded douche bag threw this in the trash. Actually, there were some birthday gifts with it that we hauled from the Le Coucou Hotel. And man, those are heavy stuff Miss T. But the boss said it's for the missus, so we had to get those outta there quick.” Mickey then winced and continued, “Damn, I think I sprained my back or something.”

The older woman started rubbing his back, up and down. She started massaging his lower back and hips. “Mickey, you have to learn how to take care of yourself. Have you got any Tylenol at home or do you want me to call Cynthia from the infirmary?”

“No, I’m good Miss T. I can probably just take a nap later or if this doesn’t let up, I’ll probably schedule a massage at the Thai place.” 

“That’s good, baby.”

“I’m just glad that it’s my day off after today. Two days, can you believe? Wooh!”

“But don’t forget to take a couple of Tylenol when you get home, Mick.” She pressed hard on his lower back, making Mickey moan.

“Yeah, okay. Will do Miss T. Can you go a bit lower… yy--eah there.” His body slumping at the edge of the table, “I mean two days is a lot of time for me to rest and have my new apartment fixed.”

“Baby you need me to put Vicks on your back before you leave? I have a tube in my bag.”

“No.. no. I’m okay now Miss T. Wow, see.” Mickey stood up and moved from side to side. “You have magic hands, Miss T. I’m alright now.”

“Okay, okay. Stop moving if you don’t want to strain yourself again. Go get your casserole and,” The woman handed him the luggage. “and this bag. Wait, ICG. It has the owner’s initials engraved on his luggage?”

“Yeah, I mean how rich can you get that you have to put your initials on everything you own. Rich people are so obnoxious. They could just as easily put a tag on their things, I mean I just tape a paper with my name on it on my bags when I go somewhere. Such pretentious pricks these rich people are.”

“Now, now Mickey. Don’t mind yourself with this useless stuff. Let them waste their money, and let us blue collared people deal with our own shit. Go, go get your casserole and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Ah, okay. Fine, I’ll go.” He grabbed the luggage and held it up to his hip. “You’re gonna miss seeing my ugly mug for two days.” 

“I don’t see no uglies here, boy.” She shooed him out of the office, “I will miss seeing your scrawny, white pretty ass walking around here alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thank you Miss T.”

“Bye, Mickey.”

  
  


_________

  
  


August 17, 2006

5:01 PM

Patricia clocked out from the office, punching her employee card to the bundy clock. She snickered to herself. Some people just felt they were entitled to everything and anything. These stupid, preppy kids who thought they could call and demand what they want. _Ha!_ Served him right. Who does he think he’s talking to? She knew these kinds of people. They would try and bully their way in every situation, however, whenever and have somebody fired for their stupidity. _Mister Gallagher._ You think I would tell Mickey on you. _Bleh._ You talked to the wrong person, Mister Gallagher. 

The sun was still high that late afternoon. Good thing Patricia wore her soft floral blouse and her brown culotte pants to work that day. _Jesus, how hot was it today_ , she thought to herself. She brought out her umbrella from her bag then started walking out of the building to the bus stop. It was her day off after today. _Good._ She wouldn’t be bothered for two days by some boy calling about his custom made luggage. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, so I did say they're gonna meet right? I promise you, they will. just.. be patient. and btw, isn't cute that mickey has Miss T having her back? we all need our own grandma's doting us on. coz they're honestly the sweetest.


	4. Be Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one boy tries to find himself while the other tries to escape his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some places in NYC that are so fascinating to me. I mentioned them briefly in this chapter.

August 18, 2006

5:17 AM

Orange, yellow hues scarcely illuminated the morning sky. It seemed like there was a brewing fire on the horizon, the sun barely showing its strength this early in the day. The air was cool, like the first gust of wind from a newly opened AC. He momentarily enjoyed the breeze, the smog of the city seemed to have cleared off that morning. Mickey gazed upon the almost barren street and felt like going for a ride. He took his Schwinn drop bar road bike along the quiet roads of 8th Avenue to West 23rd Street. The faint silhouettes of the tall buildings on the pavement giving him the sensation that he was being followed by the city. He abruptly turned right to West 21st street and went right again to 10th avenue, heading to Pier 62. Mickey liked doing this during his days off, needing that serenity of just going, pushing himself to somewhere peaceful, tranquil. He used to do this back in the day, riding his bike hard going nowhere. He’d only had a few chances doing this after he had moved to New York, his life consisting of doing odd jobs and earning enough money to get a place he could call his own. Being poor was all he’d known since he was child, and when he got the chance to work in a job with a steady paycheck, he knew he was heading somewhere good if not great.

It had been more than two years since he left California. All the ghosts of his past he’d left behind. No family would come looking for him here, in the city bustling with energy and bravado. Mickey pedalled faster, his thighs and calves burning with exertion. He could already smell the ocean, the air getting cooler and damp. The sun was making itself known now, trying to get the city’s attention by casting bright yellow electric glows on the blue water. Mickey was momentarily blinded by the sunlight, but he was almost to his destination and all he could do was look up and enjoy the friendly warmth enveloping his body. He stopped when he reached the waterfront. There were only a handful of people in the park, and he liked that. Liked that he could still enjoy the sight on his own before the buzzing began. It took exactly thirty six minutes before he decided to go back to his apartment and start the long weekend of making it look like home. 

_________

August 18, 2006

9:18 PM

Ian wanted to laugh, or cry, he didn’t know to be honest. Less than twenty four hours ago, he was having the party culminating on becoming an adult and yet he felt more like a child now than he did before. An email sent to him by William Ernest Gallagher wishing him a Happy Birthday with the pdf copy of his inheritance certificate. His father and grandfather, Arthur James Gallagher, had signed the document, their signatures bold and proud in the document. The original copy was still being withheld by the bank, the email said, and they - his father and mother - once they’d come back from their trip to Switzerland, would give the certificate to him personally. Two hundred and sixty two million dollars. That was the amount of money he was entitled to and he should be happy. In fact, he should’ve been jumping for joy and ordering his private plane or closing a members only club in the upper east side to have another party, but all he could think of is that… he was stuck. There was no way he could get away from this fucked up family. 

Ian felt like choking, his chest tightening with every breath he took. He needed to get out, he wants to disappear and not be Ian Clayton Gallagher for the night. There is no place he could go, no way the city would allow him. It would continue to swallow him whole until he's got nowhere else to go. If only… if only he could find somebody to help him. Somebody who didn’t know him or his last name. So he started a plan. A plan to escape and not be him just for tonight.

_________

Same night

10:30 PM

“The answer is no, Brian. Not another blind date.” Mickey got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips. “No, I don’t care if you’re two blocks away from my apartment. I’m already going to bed.”

He wiped away the condensation from his bathroom mirror and saw his exasperated reflection.

“Bullshit, what do you mean I owe you? You’re the one who owes me, you bastard.” Mickey grabbed his toothbrush and started angrily brushing his teeth. He could feel the bristles scratching his gums with how hard he was pressing the toothbrush to his teeth, foamy bubbles dripping on the left side of his mouth. 

“Fuck you, I never told Ethan we’re boyfriends.” His words a garbled mess as he spit out into the sink. “I didn’t fucking break his heart!”

Mickey listened to his friend for a few more minutes, wondering why he decided on answering his phone. Granted that when his phone rang, it cut off his shower dance music. He was loving his lady lumps. _My hump, my hump, my hump._ Fuck it, he was getting to the good part. Brian was still talking his ear off, begging him to come. Mickey was certainly surprised when he said, “Fine, Fine! I’ll meet you there.” Jesus Christ, it was like being bulldozed by a six-foot two, Irish catholic, man child into a twenty foot deep pit. “Brian, If I see you’ve actually brought Ethan with you, I’m going back home.” 

He hurriedly dried off, taking a plain white t-shirt in his drawer, pulling his black leather jacket from the cabinet. He grabbed his dark denim on the chair, which he was sure smelled clean even though he’d worn it three times that week. Mickey left the gel and just slicked his hair back, his still wet hair giving it a pompadour look. On his way out, he grabbed his wallet, his phone and worn out biker boots. 

A few minutes ago, he was looking forward to just enjoying the progress he’d made fixing up his apartment. He already got his flat screen TV mounted on the wall, his new mattress on the bed frame that he had installed himself. It took him hours to figure out where to perfectly put his bed, and yet he wouldn’t be enjoying that until later. Until Mickey’s blind date turned out to be worth missing this domain that he’s made on his own.

_________

Same night 

11:05 PM

“To the Belfry please.” Ian said to the man driving the cab. There was no chance in hell that he thought he would get out of his hotel room unnoticed. He had to bribe a housekeeper to make a distraction, paying her one hundred dollars upfront. Ian told her that she wouldn’t be losing her job just as long as she helps him get out of the room. He assured her his family knew the owner of the hotel and her job was secure no matter what. They had to act fast, her only way of concealing him was with her cleaning cart. Ian had told Brett and Peter earlier that day that they could take the night off and he wouldn’t be needing them until midday the next day. Johnson, being the only person guarding him during the night, took it upon himself to stay in the living room instead of staying inside one of the empty rooms of the suite. He was the only foreseeable problem. Ian would need to deceive him so he could escape scott free. 

****

**_KNOCK KNOCK_ **

_Johnson looked out the peephole and checked on the person outside the door. He opened the door slowly and asked the woman in front of him._

_“Yes, what could I do for you?”_

_“Someone called for housekeeping?”_

_“No, I didn’t.”_

_“I got a call from the manager and he told me to come up to room 811.” She fidgeted a bit on the handle of her cart. “I was told that you wanted extra pillows.”_

_“Pillows?”_

_“Yes, the manager said four large rectangular pillows and one bolster.”_

_“Wait here.”_

_Ian could hear their conversation from where he was standing. Underneath his sweatpants were his black skinny jeans and black Ivy Skull Alexander McQueen t-shirt. He had to hide his brogue lace-up boot sneakers by pulling down his sweatpants up to the curve of his ass. His heart was beating fast, anticipating Johnson to come to him if he indeed asked for pillows._

_“Sir, we have a housekeeper outside and said somebody asked for pillows at the concierge. Did you call for pillows?”_

_“Yes, of course. The ones that I have in my room are soiled, was doing some exercises a while ago and I... I want everything to be changed actually, even the sheets if she had brought some with her.”_

_“Exercises. On the bed.”_

_“Yes, I was on the bed while doing my sit ups. And I was sweating... A lot. And I would not be sleeping in a bed soaked with sweat. My sweat..because you know, I was exercising.” Ian was talking excessively, and Johnson was looking at him curiously._

_“Okay.” His bodyguard remained poker faced with the exception of his left eyebrow raising a bit before turning around and walking back to the door. Ian was becoming more nervous as the seconds passed. The lady housekeeper brought her_ _cart inside and said her usual pleasantries to Ian. Ian let Johnson follow her inside his room as she strips the bed and got the fresh sets of sheets from her cart. When both Johnson and the housekeeper were in his room, Ian wheeled the cart in front of his room, blocking the entry way. He then took his phone, wallet and key card off the kitchen table and bolted out the door. Ian ran as fast as he could to the stairway, making sure to strip his sweatshirt and pants along the way. When he got to the first floor, Ian sprinted to the lobby as casually as he could and once outside, he hailed a taxi._

_________

August 19, 2006

12:55 AM

Mickey had been playing with his phone for a few minutes now, debating if he should leave now or just stay and keep his friend happy. He appreciated it, Brian going out of his way for Mickey to meet people, and not just thinking about work or how to make more money. This guy, Troy, that Brian deemed fit to be Mickey’s blind date for tonight was actually nice, too nice for his taste to be honest. Both men left him to get their drinks and probably gossip about whether Troy liked him or not. Brian had been giving him the thumbs up all night and he didn’t have the need to reciprocate anything to his friend. He just wanted to go home, maybe buy a six-pack at the nearby mom and pop store to his apartment. The thing is, Troy was actually not bad looking, even Mickey could admit, he was pleasantly surprised that Brian may have finally figured out his type. Troy was tall, maybe six foot one inches tall, lean but nor overly muscular, had blue eyes and auburn hair. Brian claimed he was the one who introduced his new girlfriend Margaret to him, and he wanted to return the favor by introducing him to Mickey. He thought to himself, maybe just give it a try, it’s just one night, right? 

Mickey raised his eyes from idly looking at his phone, scouring the bar as to where his friend and date were. He saw them still waving at the bartender, laughing sloppily when neither one of them got his attention. At that far end of the bar, he saw a guy, head hanging low from his shoulder, a large drink on his hand. Mickey couldn’t really see his face, but it was his hair that got his attention. It reminded Mickey of burnt orange sunsets in California, warm and fiery at the same time. He tried to look closely, Mickey’s body leaning forward. He looked young, younger than what was legal to be drinking liquor. The man-boy had an ashtray in front of him, almost filled up to the lip with burnt cigarettes. Mickey saw him emptying his drink with a large gulp and started flagging the bartender. The one nearest the redhead nodded and gave him another glass full of amber liquid. Mickey winced, this guy needed to call it a night before things get embarrassing.

“Hey, we got our drinks. Fucking finally.” Troy said as he slid next to Mickey and handed him a beer. 

“You sure that's all you want, Mick? We could order tequila shots.” Brian wiggled his eyebrows at him.

He wanted to strangle his friend.

“No, I'm good. I’m actually a bit tired from fixing up my place.”

“Oh, you just moved?” Troy asks.

“Uhm... yeah. A week ago. Moved from Riverside to Chelsea.”

“Finally decided on living on your own, huh Mick?”

“Yeah, I figured it’s time cause my old roommate's going to get married and would be moving in with the lady. I wanted to move somewhere cheaper and smaller. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but why Chelsea though?”

“Well, it’s near everywhere you know. I could just go to the pier or park anytime, walk around and see the city at the High line. I mean, the museums too if you’re into that.”

“Okay, Troy, this is what you need to know about Mickey. He likes architecture. You could leave him at the Vessel for hours and you still find him standing at the exact same place, admiring the building.”

“You want to study Architecture, Mickey?”

“Well, I..” Mickey wanted to say there are so many things he wanted to do. Go to college, learn about stuff, make something of himself. Maybe someday, be somebody. “I haven’t even gotten my GED yet. Maybe, I dunno.” he shrugged his shoulders.

Troy touched his arm, “Get your GED, man. I mean, there’s no harm in trying.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Mickey started fidgeting from his seat, discomfort creeping in. He didn’t need this serious conversation on the first date. He gave Brian a look, that the night should probably end. Brian pursed his lips, understanding what Mickey was conveying.

“Mick, wanna share a light outside?”

Mickey patted his pockets and found it empty apart from his wallet and keys. “I don’t have a pack with me.”

“I got you, I still have a few left here.” Brian brandished his Marlboro lights and motioned for Mickey to follow him outside. 

He lit up his cigarette before handing him the pack and lighter for Mickey to do the same. 

“Dude, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m just tired, bro. Did a lot of lifting the whole day. You know how it is with moving.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, alright... just wanted to make it up to you with Ethan.”

“Shit, man. All this time I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Mick, I would never get mad at you for that. Are you kidding me?” 

“You were just guilt tripping me an hour ago, asshole.” 

“Cause I really thought you were gonna hit it off with this guy. And I wanted you to meet him. I’ve known him since junior high, Mick. He’s really a nice guy.”

“I know, it’s just that... I’m just tired. I promise, I’ll call Troy again after tonight. I mean, I could give you a blow by blow account of when I’ve sucked his dick.”

“TMI you fuck face!”

They started laughing, hip checking each other until they decided they were okay and there’s no bad blood between the two of them. Brian flicked off his half-finished cigarette and said, “So you wanna get back in.”

“Yeah, I’m just about,” Mickey takes a final drag of his stick then drops it on the ground, “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

_________

August 19, 2006

1:15 AM

He raised his hand with less coordination than usual and slurred, “Tt--ttaaaxxi.”

Ian tried to stand upright, his head lolling to the side as he floppily waved his hand and he tried speaking again, “Tttttaaaaaaaxxxiiii.”

He stepped forward, his body swaying as he tried to move closer to the ongoing traffic. Ian thought maybe these bastards were not seeing him. He walked on, taking one step at a time. Everything was swaying, left and right. There were lights flashing everywhere, going past him, around him, he didn’t know. There seemed to be a lot of lights all of sudden. Ian raised his arms and started waving at another passing yellow cab. “Tt…”

“What the fuck, man. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Ian heard a shout in his ear as he felt strong arms enveloping his waist.

“Taxi.” he said to the stranger who is pulling him somewhere. “Wait, I need to get a taxi.”

“In the middle of the street? Are you stupid?”

“I wanna get away from here.”

“What?”

“Out of here.” 

“You're definitely getting out of here, idiot. Via an ambulance.”

“Stop shouting. I just..” His mind was drifting in and out, his vision wavering a bit. “Don’t let me go.” he weakly said. Unthinkingly, he collapsed onto the arms of the stranger, sighing in exhaustion as his mind started to doze off.

“Hey, ginger. Shit. Wake up!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I think they met?


	5. Alek and Mister Gallagher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so you want to be a hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just say, it's really hard if you are dead tired and somebody is sleeping in your bed, who happens to be a stranger who is drunk af.

August 19, 2006

2:09 AM

Mickey had a problem. He’d been looking at his problem for five minutes and he didn’t have any idea what to do. Mickey thought to himself, he had evaded being a juvenile delinquent all his teenage life, hell, he was still being a good citizen as far as he was concerned and had no intention of being branded as a criminal and yet, this happened. 

There was always a fantasy of every human being to become a hero, to save a person from pain or death, to be an inspiration, an icon even. But did being a hero include a stupid person who would save a mother fucking drunk from being railed by ongoing traffic? _Shit_. He could’ve just continued walking. His apartment was, what? Eighteen minutes away, and if he walked faster, he could probably get there in twelve minutes flat. But with the added load, more specifically a six foot, one hundred thirty, maybe forty pound ginger, who apparently lost all control of his limbs and mind a few minutes ago, it took Mickey thirty nine minutes to arrive at the sanctity of his one bedroom apartment. And the intoxicated leprechaun was now laying on his newly installed bed. His bed. _Fuck._

“Hey. Hey, kid.” Mickey tried rousing the sleeping boy by nudging his shoulders. “Hey.”

It barely coaxed anything from him. Mickey patted his leg, “Hey, this ain’t a hotel, kid. Wake up.”

“Hhhmmmmp.”

“Hey, kid.”

The boy drifted into consciousness for a second, opening one eye, then dozed back out. 

“Are you kidding me?” Mickey sat at the foot of bed harshly, making the immobile figure bounce. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He felt more tired than before, his body getting fatigued, almost to the point of exhaustion. Mickey wanted to sleep. And by sleep, he meant sleeping in his bed, alone, for hours the rest of the day. 

“The fuck do I do now?” 

He let his eyes look at the boy’s face. The soft light from the moon illuminating the sleeping form. He’d kept his windows up when he went out, wanting the breeze of the early morning permeate in the room. It was still too hot in New York, and he didn’t plan on being baked alive inside his apartment. Familiarity blossomed from Mickey’s brain. He knew this guy, actually he’d seen him before. This was the guy in the bar. The guy who looked barely legal and drinking alone by himself. He tried to guess the boy’s age, twenty? No, maybe a bit younger than that. He barely had any facial hair on him, his skin smooth and fair like a prepubescent boy. But when his gaze fell down to his neck, chest, up to his arms, Mickey guessed eighteen, nineteen at the most. His curiosity was killing him the longer he looked at the guy. He wanted to check in his wallet, maybe find out where he lived. Maybe find out his name too while he was at it. He did want to contact this idiot in the future in case he started puking on his clean floors. As he was about to roll the boy on his front, he heard a melody of a song coming from his pants.

_“Cause you had a bad day. You’re taking one down_

_You sing a sad song and you turn it around._

_You say you don’t know, you tell me don't lie._

_You work at a smile and you go for a ride._

_You had a bad day. The camera don’t lie._

_You’re coming back down, and you really don’t mind._

_You had a bad day. You had a bad day.”_

Mickey stuttered for a moment, like he was making his brain catch up with his thoughts. “What the fuck?” The song started again, the same melody percolating on the silent night. It was his phone, Mickey figured, somebody was trying to call him. He thought maybe, if he answered the phone, he could find out who this boy is, or better yet, get that person, whoever was calling, to take him home. 

Mickey was about to reach into the boy’s pockets when the guy sat up and pulled his phone out of his right front pocket and threw the phone at him. 

“Whoever that is, tell him I’m dead.” then rolled on his stomach, spreading his arms and legs at the whole width of the bed.

“What the fuck?” Mickey barely dodged the phone, hitting him on the hip with a thump. The phone kept ringing, the lighted up screen saying Johnson. He started shaking, his whole body began to titter with the hilarity of the situation. Mickey dissolved in a puddle of laughter, his body writhing as he fought a new round of giggles. The moment felt like it was stretching, like the night couldn’t get more ridiculous than it was. He was holding the phone in his hand, the phone still ringing, with the song that was now ingrained in his brain.

“Okay, kid. You got me there.” He pressed the green button of the NOKIA 5300 and put the phone to his ears. “Hello.”

“Who is this?”

“The guy who isn’t dead.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The guy who owns this phone told me to tell whoever is calling him to say that he’s dead.”

“Are you a police officer?”

“Do I sound like a police officer?”

“Let me rephrase that, is Mister Gallagher in the police station?”

“Why is he a criminal?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Where is he?”

“Are you his friend?”

“I don’t need to answer that.”

“Well, I don’t have to tell you where _Mister Gallagher_ is then.”

“Sir, this is a serious matter. Are you a kidnapper then?”

“Do I sound like I'm asking for a ransom?” 

“Sir..”

“Alright, your boss is plastered, like piss drunk wasted.”

“Is that why he’s with you.”

“He’s with me because I had to drag his ass off the streets. Your _boss_ almost got runned down by a van on East 14th street.”

“And you saved him.”

“If save is, I let him lay down on my perfectly clean bed as he sobers up then yes, I saved him.”

“Let him stay there, we’ll come and get him. Text me the address.”

“Whoah, wait. How can I be sure you’re not some random guy who is an actual kidnapper or worse a serial killer.”

“I will send you a photo of my identification and Mister Gallagher’s picture just to make sure you have the right person with you.”

“I don’t even know how to use this guy’s phone.”

“The PIN is 3473.”

Mickey pressed the numbers and unlocked the phone. He received a text with an attached photo of a driver’s license and a picture of the redhead a few seconds later. He squinted his eyes to look at the face of the caller. White male, wears a buzzcut, about six foot four inches tall, name says Johnson Mitchell, thirty six year old, lives north of Harlem. _Local_. Mickey then turned his attention to the attached photo of the boy sleeping on his bed. The picture showed him giving the camera a finger, his face all smug and uppity.

“Yeah, it’s firecrotch alright.”

“Okay, please text back your address at that same number.”

“Yeah, sure, give me a sec.”

Mickey typed in his address, wondering if he should put in his name or not. At the last minute, he types in, _Alek._

“Thank you, Alek. We will be there as soon as we can. Don’t let him leave.” the man said, ending the phone call.

  
  


**BUZZ. BUZZ.**

“Hello, my name is Johnson Mitchell. I’m here to pick up Mister Gallagher.”

“Alright, I’ll ring you in. The elevator doesn’t work. Come up to the third floor, second door to your right.”

“Thank you.”

Mickey waited for the man outside his door, a baseball bat within his reach in case he read it wrong and the guy was an actual murderer. He heard several footsteps, and by the sounds of it, it seemed like two, maybe three guys coming up the stairs to his floor. His heart started beating fast, his senses on high alert. Mickey grabbed hold of the bat that was standing by his door, partly hidden by its moulding. He assumed a semi crouching position, his hand circling the grip of the bat. The first man that stepped up on the third floor was Johnson, the man on the ID card, and right next to him was a smaller guy, an older much slender man that seemed non threatening. But Mickey was still cautious, he was obviously outnumbered if this became a brawl. He held the bat tighter, ready to swing in case something goes wrong.

“Hey,” Mickey said, “I thought it’s just gonna be one coming to get him?”

“I apologize.” Johnson came up to him, the look of relief on his face. “Peter wanted to come with me in case you weren’t telling the truth that you have Mister Gallagher.”

Peter, the smaller man walked past Johnson and Mickey as he went straight in the room and checked if they found who they were looking for. 

“Johnson, it's him!” he shouted. “C’mon sir. Up. We have to get you home.” 

“Excuse me, hey. You can’t just come in like that.” Mickey hollered back as he quickly got in his room and found Peter lifting the slumped form of the redhead from the bed. 

“We have to get him back, Alek. We have informed his father that he was missing and we don’t want the authorities to get a hold of any information of his whereabouts. We don’t want to implicate you with anything. Did he have drugs in him?”

“Drugs? I just saw him waving like an air dancer in the middle of the street. How would I know if he had drugs on him?”

“We’re just making sure that you haven’t given him anything.”

“Sir, sir.” Peter urged the boy to answer. He gently patted his cheeks and asked, “Do you know where you are?”

“Nngghh...whaat?” the ginger rasped softly. 

“It’s Peter sir, and Johnson. We have to get back to the hotel.”

“Whhhyymmm…” and then he fell on the older man like a sack of rice. Johnson grabbed the boy’s body and hoisted him to his shoulder. His listless arms dangling on the larger man’s back. 

“I’m so sorry for your inconvenience, Alek. We need to get him back now. Peter, go get the car.” Johnson motioned for the other man to go ahead. “We will be compensating you for your services.”

“What do you mean, compensating?”

“We will be in touch with you once Mister Gallagher has been returned safely to the hotel.” 

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“We will be in contact with you as soon as we can. Again, thank you and we are sorry for your inconvenience.” Johnson briskly said to him as he continued walking out of his room towards the hallway.

Within two minutes, Mickey was left alone in his apartment, sans a drunk ginger. His rumpled bed sheets and his tight grip on the baseball bat, the only proof of what had occured eleven seconds earlier.

_________

  
  


Same day

10:38 AM

“Ian, what you did is highly irresponsible and dangerous. You are not a child anymore. These questionable activities that you are doing need to stop. Do you know how worried Johnson was?”

He listened to his father as he nursed his headache. It took him two cups of coffee and a bottle of Gatorade to sober up. Apparently he was found in a stranger’s apartment a few hours ago, severely intoxicated to the point that he was carried back to the hotel for the second time in less than twenty four hours. Fuck his life. 

“I know father. I’m sorry.”

“Your mother doesn’t want to speak to you. She’s very disappointed.”

“Alright.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, young man?”

Ian ran a hand through his hair, his hands curling up into a ball. He had no intention of making people worry about him. All he wanted to do was taste his last night of freedom. The moment his parents give him that paper, the document that tells him he’s worth two hundred and sixty two million dollars, he will have his name and freedom etched in the family business. Ian Clayton Gallagher will be next in line to run his grandfather's empire together with his father once he gets his degree. He was set to go to Yale by fall, and that’s not what he wanted to do. Ian was not cut out to be working in the family business. That was not the life he wanted. He had always wished for a simple life. And him being a Gallagher would never ever be simple. 

“I’m sorry. That will never happen again.” he says defeatedly.

“What are we to do with you, Ian?”

“I will do whatever you want.”

“Ian, son. We don’t have to keep doing this. There was a reason I had Johnson and Brett there with you. New York is not a place for you to run around and not tell them where you are. What if something happens to you? Do you think your shenanigans will not put harm on yourself or the family? We don’t need another scandal right now.”

It had been years since this was mentioned to him. His father’s sister, Catherine, was set to marry his grandfather’s partner’s son. It was a business deal that would catapult both businesses to the billion dollar league. On the day Bernard Mellon, the son of one of the founder’s of BNY Mellon, was to marry his aunt, Catherine fled to California and eloped with a commoner, an artist, his father said. Her aunt was disowned by the family and all her inheritance and name stripped away from her. It was an insult, his father oftentimes said. She insulted the family with her disobedience. And Ian, he was also arranged to marry somebody. A fixed marriage that was set up by his mother to another business partner. He never asked for the name of the person he was to marry someday. The idea of it, the fact that he was not allowed to choose, to find that person, of feeling the joy and hurt of loving, the right to decide what he wants for himself, was the saddest reality in Ian’s life. 

His father was still speaking to him, the words he was hearing was like a rehearsed speech that was said to him for years. Nothing had changed. Nothing will change.

“Yes, I will father. Thank you for your call.” He dropped his phone on the table and sighed. 

“Johnson.”

“Yes sir?”

“You said you have the address of the man who saved me last night.”

“Yes sir. Peter was the one who drove us just a few hours ago.”

“Okay. Can you please get my checkbook in the study. I need him to be compensated for his good will.”

“Yes sir.”

“Uhm, Johnson. Did you get his name?”

“He said his name was Alek. But I did not get his last name.”

“Did you not get his identification?” Ian waved his hand in the air, “It’s okay. We can ask him later once we get to his apartment.”

“You don't have to do that sir, me and Peter can just drop the check to him later.”

“No, I insist on coming. I would like to thank him myself.”

“Very well sir. Tell me when you’re ready and I will inform Peter of our destination.”

Ian wrote the check to Alek and left the last name blank. He then scribbled the words one thousand dollars and affixed his signature on the next line. This will do, Ian thought to himself. It’s not that he puked on the man’s carpet or something. He just wanted to make sure everything was amended so he could forget about what happened last night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, are you still enjoying it? The song mentioned in this chapter, in case you guys don't know is Bad Day by Daniel Powter. I just liked this song, even though it has been played non-stop in karaoke bars and drunken nightly session by me and my friends a few years back. I just thought since both Ian and Mickey were having a bad day, they needed to know that it's just one day and tomorrow will be better.


	6. Do you want some pizza, Alek?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is just hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone is damn hungry and he just wants pizza.

August 19, 2006

3:04 pm

He didn’t even realize the time when he heard his stomach growling. Mickey squirmed while folding the last of his moving boxes, he couldn’t wait to have a slice of spicy pepperoni pizza and boneless wings at Prince Street. He was already salivating with the thought of it. Mickey’s eyes glazed over at the thought of it, he’d ask to make it crispy and get an extra spicy sauce. Jesus, his stomach started rumbling again and he tried to cover it with his hand. _Only a couple more minutes_ , Mickey said to himself, _C’mon man, hurry the fuck up_. 

There were five boxes in total, in it were his clothes, a few shoes, his books, the little knick knacks he had collected during his stays at different foster homes. There wasn't anything special with them, they just served as a reminder to Mickey where he was at, at specific times of his life. To be honest, he did an amazingly good job with the little sleep he had. Jesus, last night was… interesting. 

Even if he tried to remind himself that there weren't just two grown men carrying out an incapacitated boy outside his apartment to go… god knows where, and he just allowed it without even thinking that maybe he might’ve put the guy in danger. Yeah, he’s now what, an accessory to murder or kidnapping if indeed the men last night were, he doesn’t know, from the Mob, gang or somewhat. Mickey shook the image out of his head and just prayed to God the ginger was not in holed up somewhere. He gathered all the folded up boxes, tied them with his yellow polypropylene rope, and attached it to his bike then walked out of his apartment. He double checked that the door was closed, shaking the knob a few times before going down the hallway. His stomach acted up again, making weird noises as he dragged his bike with him, going down the stairs. At the entrance of the building, he saw Johnson, Peter and the redhead. Jesus fuck, not again, he muttered to himself. 

He opened the small gate, blocking the entry way with his bike, “Look, I really don’t want any trouble and I haven’t eaten the whole day. If you, being here,” Mickey pointed to Johnson, “would mean I have actually corroborated the kidnapping of ginger over there.” then pointed his chin at Ian, “I’ll just say, I didn’t see anything, didn’t hear nothing. I went home alone last night, nobody came to my apartment at two thirty in the morning. It’s as if nothing happened, okay?” 

Ian had to peek behind Johnson’s shoulder to see the face of the guy who apparently saved him. In this afternoon light, he could be about twenty five or maybe older, but the more Ian stared at the man, the more boyishly younger he looked, he guessed maybe twenty? The guy was shorter than Ian, maybe a few inches off his six foot frame. Well built. If Ian could think of the right word to describe it, he was compact. The expanse of his body filled at the right places, still soft in some places, yet looked well toned and strong. Very manly. He turned his body sideways, so that he could see him clearly. The entirety of his hero. The first thing that struck him was his eyes. They were as blue as the morning cloudless sky. Almost sickenly blue, like you could write sonnets with how pretty his eyes were kind of blue. Someone should seriously write a color with this guy’s eyes. Ian thought, _damn he could probably write one himself right now_. He had dark eyebrows, which were well defined with a perfect arch. The man had smooth flawless skin, like he was born with great skin, that no dermatologist could replicate. He had this serious expression on his face, like he was irritated or annoyed at something. Ian’s eyes went down to his lips, which were plump, like they were just right for marathon kissing. _Wait what?_

Ian had to stop looking. He was borderline ogling at the guy and that was... inappropriate? Ian saw him casting him a glance for a split second and Ian audibly gasped. Ian had to look away for a second, cause he was obviously caught staring. 

“Hey ginger, you alright over there?” The man said to him. “I don’t actually have to call the cops, right?”

“You talking to me?” Ian stuttered.

“Who else here has an actual fiery bush on his head, idiot?” Mickey snappily said. He was fucking starving already. “Yeah I’m talking to you.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a redhead. A natural red head since birth. A ginger, yes.” Ian needed to remember how to talk, for Christ's sake. “Hello, my name is.. Clayton.”

Mickey extended his left hand and made a fist bump instead of a handshake. He saw the younger guy struggle for a bit until he successfully bumped his knuckles ever so lightly. _Jessuz._

“Who named you like an old fart?” 

Ian noticed Johnson side eyeing him, like he was witnessing a child doing a cartwheel who would fail miserably at the end.

“Well my parents, of course.”

“Well your parents are stupid as fuck to name you Clayton. My name’s Alek.”

“Yes, Alek.” Johnson interrupts. “So the reason me and Mister Gallagher are here is, we would like to thank you for what you did last night. Mister _Clayton_ would like to gi… ”

Ian stepped in front of Johnson, nudging him aside and hurriedly said, “We would like to invite you out...for dinner. Tonight.”

“Dinner? Dude, didn’t you just hear what I said a while ago?” Mickey gruffly said, “I haven’t eaten the whole day and quite frankly, I would rather get that dinner now.” then harshly put his bike to his side and walked past Johnson and Clayton. “Like right now, while I’m still alive and breathing.” 

Ian saw him walk to the sidewalk without even waiting if they’re following him or not. Johnson was looking at him for directions but all he could think of was that he was leaving. Fast.

“Wait.”

Mickey didn’t have time for this. Didn’t even have the energy to be polite or hospitable, like invite them back to his apartment. At this moment, he was in dire need of sustenance. Hell, to be honest, he might even be at the brink of dying of hunger. _Alright, calm down Mickey. No need to think grisly thoughts._ He just wanted to eat already, God damn it.

“Wait.” Ian tried again.

“What?” Mickey turned his head and shouts back.

“Well, I have a car?”

“That is edible?”

“Huh?”

“Look man, I just want to get pizza and maybe a beer. Can’t I just do that, Clayton?”

Ian jogged closer to Alek, “I mean, we could drive there. Peter is already following us. All we have to do is get in the car and go get you that pizza.”

“What about my bike.”

“Oh well, Johnson can,“ Ian waved at Johnson to come closer. He then asked, “It can fit at the back right?”

“Yes, sir. We have room at the back.” then walked to Mickey and tried to grab the bike from his hold.

“Wait, I don’t think I’ve said yes to this plan.” Mickey narrowed his eyes at Johnson, gripping his bike harder. 

“Alek, I think it would be wise to agree to this proposition.” Johnson spoke with an air of finality.

“Yes, Alek. The quicker we could put your bike in the car, the faster I can get you that pizza.”

“This is actually close to coercion now.” He heard his stomach growling, and he couldn’t even suppress it anymore. Mickey’s face grimaced as the rumbling continued. “Okay, fuck. Here’s my bike. Let’s go get some pizza.”

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was super short. and also, at the time I was writing this chapter, I was working and trying to learn how to play the guitar, but also craving for pizza. next chapter I swear it will be longer. I just wanted to set it up that they met properly this time, although they used different names. go figure ;)


	7. To Like Or Not To Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bet you a thousand bucks that you’ll stupid like me after today. think not? ha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you blush, i blush.

August 19, 2006

3:58 PM

What’s worse than being stuck with strangers in the longest line possible on the sidewalk outside Prince Street Pizza? It’s being stuck with literal strangers, strangers meaning just one person actually, mister redhead here, Clayton, in the longest line possible on the sidewalk outside Prince Street Pizza, extremely hungry and annoyed as fuck. Mickey kept on tiptoeing and looking over people’s heads and shoulders to check if the line was moving. Apparently, today was the day thirty or so people decided on getting pizza, and fuck, he was really getting mad about it. Somebody must’ve really hated him and wished for him to suffer in misery today of all days. On his last day off even, when he had just successfully unpacked all his boxes, had changed the sheets of his bed that this ginger gigantor had slept on last night, saved a drunk bastard while he was at it and was now mother fucking starved to the point that he didn’t even care what the pizzeria have by now. Mickey would eat just about anything. Any God damn fucking thing.

“Hey man, can you like... move? The line’s moving.” He snapped at the guy wearing a fucking beanie under the scorching summer afternoon. The man was on his phone half the time, maybe blogging or yelping about the pizza joint, whatever that meant. Mickey found himself stomping his feet, when the man didn’t even attempt to make a step forward and just kept his eyes glued on his phone. “Hey, can you just fucking move, man.”

“Alek, we can go somewhere else if you’re really that hungry. I don’t think we can get inside anytime soon.” Ian uttered. “I mean there’s probably like a couple or so pizzerias around and we could..”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Clayton? This is where I wanna get my pizza okay.”

“But you said you’re hungry and I just..”

“Seriously, Clayton?”

“Well, I just thought it would be faster for us to get something to eat somewhere else.”

“No.”

“Alek, c’mon. There’s like, I dunno twenty people in front of us, we couldn't possibly… ”

“Shut it, firecrotch. I’m fucking not in the mood.”

Ian did just that. He swallowed whatever words he wanted to say. It wouldn’t help their situation if he kept talking or made conversation just so he could hear Alek talk. There was already this air of irritation around Alek and Ian didn’t know how to amend that. Whenever he spoke or asked random questions, it seemed to make Alek angry. The guy remained unyielding for some reason, like no matter how much he tried to placate the situation, there was this constant scowl on Alek’s face. And Ian was not happy with that. It was as if he had something to do with this. Did it have to be this way with them? When all he wanted to do was meet and thank the person who apparently saved him. He did not expect to be snapped at by this…this severely attractive man. Ian felt frustrated, like he just wanted to know Alek, make him smile if possible. He could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, his cheeks and neck getting redder and redder by the minute. Alek was glaring at people now, his arms folded to his front.

“I’m… “ Ian started as Alek turned around and looked at him with a dejected state.

“Hey, man.” Mickey brushed Clayton’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.” then gave the younger man a small smile.

Mickey was being a jerk. He knew it. It wasn’t Clayton’s fault that he was this cranky asshole who barked at people for no reason. Clayton was actually nice, like he could tolerate his presence for a few hours kind of nice. He didn’t really have to offer to go with him. Mickey was perfectly fine being dropped off at Prince Street. Heck he was actually fine being left alone once they got to the pizzeria, but Clayton insisted on coming with him. He said it was the least that he could do to repay Mickey’s altruism. In his opinion, anyone in their right mind would help an intoxicated person from getting run down by ongoing traffic. He didn’t actually do anything different. Mickey was just being a normal human being with a sane mind.

He liked solitude to be honest, and was actually quite used to it. Everyday he navigated life solo. A one man show of some sort. He didn’t even mind the silence, of just hearing himself breathe, listening to his thoughts. It's just that there was something about Clayton that was making him feel self-conscious. Like he was being watched, judged, scrutinized, he didn’t know. And he couldn’t shake it. Fuck it, maybe it was just his stomach making his mind think of things. Like maybe he didn’t mind being with somebody right now. That he was just resisting the idea that maybe Clayton is a normal human being with a sane mind too that just likes to grab a pizza with a complete stranger.

“Don’t..” Mickey touched Clayton’s chin and lifted it up. “You’re brooding. We’re cool, okay?” then gave him a crooked smile.

“Okay.” Ian touched Alek’s hand that was holding his chin. He felt warm suddenly, “We’re cool.”

They stood side by side, their elbows touching with every step they made as they got closer to the front of the line. As Mickey stood next to Clayton, he noticed that yes, he was a few inches taller than him. He had an almost buzzed cut, but with a floppy kind of top hairstyle, that looked almost orange when the sunlight touched his head. His eyes were green, with little specks of brown in them. There was a conglomeration of freckles on his nose, cheeks and forehead, that seemed to get a deeper shade of reddish brown when Mickey caught him looking at him. Mickey thought he was actually good looking, like maybe in a couple more years, for sure he’d grow out of the remnants of his adolescence, he’d surely be a stunner.

“So, “ Mickey began, “last night. I mean, I know it’s not my business or anything. And I’m not expecting you to say… but like you know, why were you out alone last night?” he began scratching the back of his head. “That's not... safe, man. You just don’t do that, you know. Especially if you don’t have nobody with you.”

Ian’s mouth was almost too dry to speak, trying to process Alek’s question. He furrowed his eyebrows before speaking, “How did you know I was alone last night?”

“Well, I...” Mickey gulped loudly. _Why was he suddenly nervous?_ He continued, “Uhm… I was also in that bar last night. Was.. there on a date.”

“O… kay.” Ian moved closer to Alek, his lips almost brushing his ear. His curiosity building. He wanted to know what sort of person could get a date with Alek. _A blonde? Brunette? Redhead? Female? Male?_ Dear God, he needed answers. “So, you were on a date huh? Hot date probably, to make you come out on your day off.”

Mickey felt his blood rushing to his ear, heat growing from its tips to his face. He closed his eyes, breathed in air through his mouth. His face may be beet red by now. He brought his left hand to his nape, feeling it to be warm, too warm. _Jesus fucking christ, Milkovich, control your damn self_. He took a couple of steps away from Clayton, trying to keep some sort of distance between their bodies. It was getting too much for Mickey, like he was awkward, maybe a bit coy. He needed a distraction. It seemed the line had moved, he noticed, and the door of the pizzeria is almost within his reach. “Oh hey, look. We’re getting closer.”

Alek was blushing. Ian could see it from his nape up to his ears. He wanted to see if the blush seared through his cheeks, if it was blooming across his face against his smooth skin. Ian fought back a smile, as he saw Alek attempting to hide his face. He was turning his head from side to side, and even took a few steps ahead of Ian. When Alek made a sudden turn of his head to his left, the deep pink hues of his cheeks and lips gave away how uncomfortable he was. Maybe shy, or embarrassed that Ian had asked him that question. He couldn’t look away. Ian needed to see more of this Alek. This demure, unguarded Alek. Ian found him…cute. So very cute.

As Mickey opened the door to Prince’s Street Pizza, he was greeted by the delicious aroma of dough and cheese. His stomach began to grumble again. He could almost taste it, the spicy pepperoni over the generous and greasy cheese. Mickey’s mouth began to water.

“Oh hey. Mi…”

 _Fuck._ “Eric, dude. How’s it been?” He waved at the guy behind the counter. Damn, that was close.

“Haven’t seen you for a while, man. How’s it been?” The guy leant over and gave Alek a pound hug. Ian hung back, discretely observing this interaction between friends. He came to find out Alek was a regular, came by the pizza place twice maybe three times a week. It seemed he was well liked as a customer, might even be a friend to some employees of the pizzeria, with the way some of them were coming out from the kitchen to greet him and ask about his day. Ian watched him move, from one person to the other, literally everybody wanting to see him, talk to him, like watching moths to a flame. Ian felt mesmerized. He followed every movement, every word coming out of Alek’s mouth. Then in an instant, Alek turned his head towards him, catching his eye. He grinned at him, and Alek... he smiled back turning his face from being cute to breathtakingly handsome. Ian felt his body flush warm.

This. This is the person he would like to know more than he had ever felt from someone before. Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends. Maybe even more.

“Word on the street you were on a date a couple of nights ago?” the guy from the counter said, “So, who is the lucky bastard?”

“Wha… where did you hear that from?” Mickey stuttered.

“Pablo saw you, man. He was at Kent’s, said your date’s way too hammered to walk, bro.” Eric patted him on the back, “You carrying him caveman style too on the street. What was that about?”

“Eric, shut the fuck up.”

Ian was mortified, felt frozen on the spot. He barely remembered what happened that night. Everything, a garbled memory to him. The only detail he recalled was that he knew he slept on something fresh, like newly laundered sheets. Not the ones that were found in the hotel that smelled minty, almost orangey, but was like a perfect combination of lavender and rosemary. He wondered if he was laid down by Alek, in his apartment, on his bed. He hadn’t meant to think of that at the moment, but it made his insides tingle. Was that the smell that Alek woke up to every day? Ian thought he wouldn’t mind waking up to that too.

He was torn. Ian wanted to act nonchalant. To pretend that he just didn’t make a fool of himself in front of a complete stranger. He also felt flustered. Like he wanted to totter away, to not feel this disconcerting feeling that Alek saw him like that. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, making Alek turn and go back to him.

“Hey, that was… shit, sorry.”

Ian’s eyes flickered to Alek’s face. There was gentleness in his eyes, like he was silently comforting him. His face didn’t show any disgust, not even judgment. A small smile quivered from Ian’s lips. “Is that...is that what happened?”

“Clayton, shit. Okay.” Alek grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of his friend. “Eric, this is Clayton. He’s my...friend. He sort of got drunk that night and well…” He felt Alek squeezing his hand. “I had to bring him home. Just making sure he’s safe, you know.”

“So not your date then?” Eric asked.

“Uh..no. there's this other guy.”

 _A Guy._ Ian’s brain stopped working for a moment. His eyebrows began raising, his mouth hanging with his lips partly open. His eyes widened at this information. “You were out with a guy?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. So this guy, Clayton, was not your date last night, but you took him home with you. Am I right? So, what happened to the other guy?”

Mickey wanted to strangle Eric. Tie a noose around his neck, maybe gag him too while he’s at it.

“Eric, can you just please..” Mickey says exasperatedly. _Can everybody just shut the fuck up._

“Yeah, Alek. what happened to the other guy?” Clayton asked him playfully.

The fucking nerve of this redheaded behemoth.

“Okay, you know what. Just get me a couple of spicy pep, Eric, and two sodas.” Mickey barked out at his friend then walked away. He strode to the nearest booth and slid to sit on the chair. It dawned on him that he was still holding Clayton’s hand which he was gripping hard. Mickey quickly dropped his hand and saw a white hand like pattern on the dorsal surface of Clayton's hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He said softly.

Ian wanted to hug him. Wrap his arms around him and tell him it was okay. Like he didn’t have to feel distressed about it. Alek was looking everywhere but Ian, and Ian was getting endeared. Like seriously, he was just about punch drunk in awe of what he was seeing. He never even realized they were holding hands the whole time. Ian was perfectly fine with being held like that, like he was worthy of being safeguarded by somebody other than his bodyguards. He wanted to comment on it, say that he would like Alek’s hand on his. But he knew he had to do something first. He had to ask him out on a date or something. Cause maybe Ian would want that, holding hands with Alek one time, or maybe all the time.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice.”

“Huh?”

“It’s nice to know you actually cared enough to bring me to your apartment. To make sure I was safe.” Ian bit his lip when he said this. Making sure to maintain eye contact with Alek.

“I’m sorry about my friend. He’s such a jerk sometimes.” Alek was barely looking at him. He raised his eyes for a moment before looking down on his lap. Alek seemed to find his hands interesting, and Ian would not allow that.

Mickey’s skin began to tingle, as though there was a steady pitter-patter of electricity on his skin. His heart beat started beating erratically, like he was doing a marathon and could see the finish line. He doesn’t understand what was going on, why he was suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed at the same time. But all he knew was it felt good. To get this much attention from a person, who happened to be sitting eight inches away from him. Staring at him, scrutinizing everything about him. 

Ian needed to do something bold. He wanted... needed to know if there was something there.

“I wanna make it up to you. Besides buying you the pizza.”

“What do you mean?”

_Be bold._

“I wanna take you out. Cause I may have ruined that date you had a few nights ago.” Ian said.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“How so?”

“He wasn’t… I don’t think he’s my type.”

“Okay. So, what’s your type?”

Just as Alek was about to answer his question, a girl with a mohawk and nose ring came by their booth.

“Hey boys, so you guys ordered two slices of spicy pepperoni and two sodas.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mickey mumbled back. “Thanks, Gretch.” he said to the girl.

“If you guys need something else, just holler ‘kay?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Ian had to finally admit to himself what I may have known for a couple of hours now. That he liked Alek. He liked him. A lot.

“Go out with me. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

“If going out means I will be carrying your drunk, scrawny ass to my apartment again after the night has ended, no thank you.” Mickey quipped at Clayton.

“Look man, It’s just one night. You can even name the time and place. I really just want to make it up to you.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. But not where one of us gets killed or murdered.”

“Oh fuck. Just when I’ve thought of you meeting my thug friends. They would have loved to meet this rich, spoiled brat I’ve picked up in a bar.” Mickey winked at Clayton.

“Fuck you.”

A slow grin spread over Mickey’s face. He was having fun. “You know what? Okay, I’ll go out with you. But as friends, not a date. I need to like you before we have a date. And I don't like you enough to agree on a date.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet what?”

“You don’t like me... yet. And I’ll make you like me, Alek.” Ian pursed his lips and extended his right hand for a handshake. “Challenge accepted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had an idea of how i wanted to make this chapter, but it took a turn while i'm writing it. well, it turned out to be super cheesy, more cheesy than a four cheese pizza. i just want some cute stuff from the boys. i can’t help imagining them being shy with one another before they sort of... take the fall 😉


	8. Before You Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's just say someone is excited. scratch that, they are both excited for the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cellphones. such a wonderful piece of technology. if someone texts you, it is rightfully so that you would be texting back. simple right?

August 23, 2006

8:45 PM

  
  
  


Mickey had a problem. He should’ve already been sleeping. His body was used to a schedule. At seven in the evening, he should’ve already had his dinner. Thirty minutes after that, he would’ve done the dishes, changed down into his boxers and white tank top, washed his face, brushed his teeth and possibly tucked himself in his bed. In less than seven hours, he had to get up and go to work. And yet here he was, smiling like an idiot, looking at his stupid flip phone, like he’d just solved the problem of world hunger. He had made a grave mistake. Mickey shouldn’t have given Clayton his number. He should’ve kept it casual. Friends exchange numbers all the time. Nothing wrong with friends texting each other every night. Totally normal, like best buddies, like bro pals, right? Actually, they’d become friends who text each other to check if the other one got home fine, to friends texting each other as one of them wakes up, or is having their lunch, or if one is about to go home or had just gone to the gym, which Clayton apparently was at a few minutes ago. _Normal bro pal stuff right?_

Clayton was actually a friendly guy. He could probably be just one of his friends that he texts. Obviously a guy like him has lots of friends. No need to make something out of this, Mickey thought. Perfectly normal for an eighteen year old who doesn’t have a job, who seemed to be staying in a nice hotel for the time being and who was good looking no less. For sure, there were loads of people in his phonebook. But it still made Mickey think that maybe, they had something special here. An unfortunate acquaintance that had turned into a blooming friendship. Mickey would take that, he needed friends other than his coworkers or children of his work buddy. Clayton made him laugh, even in the most absurd ways possible. He seemed an alright guy for a trust fund baby. The guy, he found out, had just turned eighteen the day after he saw him at the bar. He said he was out to get celebratory drinks for himself and didn’t feel like asking any friends to go with him. Clayton, apparently, had just received a gift from his parents that would set him up for life, and he needed to celebrate the occasion. 

  
  


**_*PING_ **

  
  


Weasley: u tink s gonna rain dis weekend?

Mickey: Y

Weasley: wana make sur m wearin d ryt clothes wen we go awt dis saturday 

Mickey: watever s fyn, man

Weasley: bt srsly, wer r we goin?

Mickey: sumwer

Weasley: ?

Mickey: **;)**

Weasley: **:(**

Mickey: .

Weasley: **( ~ _ 0 )**

Mickey: **( 0__0 )**

Weasley: **( > _< ) **

Mickey: **( @ _@ )**

Weasley: **( 0 _ ~ )**

Mickey: **( ~ __~ )**

Weasley: **=U**

Mickey: nid 2 sleep, asshole 

Weasley: tot u wer sayin u wer gettin stoned 

Mickey: wat?

Weasley: r u?

Mickey: dat txt mean imma bout 2 doze off!

Weasley: oh.. sry **:(**

  
  
  


**_*RING (Bad Day ringtone)_ **

  
  


Ian almost dropped his phone on his face when he saw Alek’s name on his screen. He wasn’t expecting him to call. It took him four full seconds before he answered his phone. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

He could hear the raspiness in Alek’s voice, low and soft, like he was trying to stay awake. Alek had been up since three in the morning, Ian had already memorized his schedule for the week. He knew when he got up, how long it took for him to bike to the subway, his ride to and from Manhattan to the Pier, when he got his lunch, where he and Joe got it, what time he left work and when he arrived at his apartment. Alek never told him where he worked. He had assumed he probably works as a security guard, a fisherman or service crew since he had to leave Manhattan at the crack of dawn. Ian wanted to know so much about Alek. Actually, he was slightly obsessed with texting him everyday. _Was it normal for Ian to be doing this? Was he crossing some sort of line with Alek?_ Their friendship was still fairly new, but Ian was already addicted to talking to Alek, and he felt like he had to pace himself somehow. It’s like Alek was getting under his skin, and… _how could he pace himself now?_

It always took a few minutes before he got a response from Alek, sometimes an hour or so. But everytime he got a message alert from him, a small smile played on his lips, like he felt excited for some reason. And Alek always replied to him, to every question, always, no matter what. He always texted back. 

“You shouldn’t have called. It was my fault. You were up the whole day, and.. I”

“Don’t do that, man. It's okay.” Alek almost whispered to the phone. 

The low rumbly, almost scratchy tone of Alek’s voice was slowly sinking into Ian, wrapping him in this luxurious warmth, and he wanted to hear it more. But he had to pace himself. Hold back a bit.

“Alek.” Ian knew he was getting tired, he was probably already laying down on his bed by now. “I’m okay. I should’ve known hours ago that you needed to sleep early. It’s just that..”

“Uhm, hey. It’s okay. And it's almost the weekend. After tomorrow’s shift, it’s already my day off. So,” Ian heard him yawning, the sound of ruffling in the background. “ ‘tis already saturday, yay!”

This was the reason he started texting Alek. He was buzzing the whole day, a good buzz. Like this sort of electricity that was carried all throughout his body and brain. And he wanted… he needed to know for sure what they will be doing this weekend. There were two more days until he got to see the possibility of having an adventure, of the unknown. Alek was building it up, he knew he had hooked him already when he had asked Ian if he had a bike and knew how to ride. The first thing that came up to his mind was that they’d be biking in Central Park. Alright, he could do that. 

“So I need to get a bike right?”

“I thought you said you already have one?”

“Yeah, well... No. Johnson said I could ask you first what kind of terrain we’re going to. If it’s flat, like in a park, or if it’s like on a trail, like if it's going to be rocky? Or if the road is made of dirt? If it’s inclined like on a hill or somewhere mountainous?” Ian asked innocently.

“You’re fucking fishing.”

“Wha..”

“Clayton, a regular road bike or a mountain bike will do. I have the drop-bar one, and have had it for years. Been my ride here in Manhattan since I don’t have a car.”

“Oh, okay. So a mountain bike huh?”

“Yeah, a simple mountain bike will do. Nice try, by the way. I still won’t be telling you where we’re going.”

“You’re such a tease.”

Alek suddenly grunted and the sound went straight into Ian’s groin. _Fuck._

“So do you need me to help you choose one? I get off at twelve tomorrow, but I won’t be in the apartment by..”

“One thirty. Yeah, I know.”

“Huh, alright. Very perceptive. I like that.”

“Oh.” Ian felt like he’d just been awarded a Nobel prize for knowing what Alek likes. His smile exponentially widened and his cheeks were already fucking aching with the amount of smiling he had been doing these past few days. “Are you sure you’re alright coming with me to get a bike?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll come with.”

Ian bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement. And he just couldn’t stop himself from internally screaming. And that was not okay. _Ian, fucking calm down idiot._

“So..”

“So.”

“Yeah, I need to sleep now Clayton. It’s already…” Alek hummed and it was the sexiest thing Ian had ever heard in his life. “Nine twenty six in the evening. I need to get up before three.”

“Okay.”

“ ‘kay.”

“G’night Alek. See you tomorrow. ”

“Yeah…’kay. See you. Have a good night too, ginger.”

  
  


**_*CLICK_ **

  
  


Mickey was close. He could already feel his mind drifting to and from every occurrence that happened the whole day. Every action he made, from waking up, to getting on his bike, to catching the train, to going up the truck, to talking to Joe about work, to eating his pastrami sandwich with his Monster drink, to catching the train back to Manhattan, to the multiple times Clayton texted him since he woke up at eight in the morning. Nine text messages since eight in the morning. Not including the MMS Clayton had sent him of the hotel lobby, a picture of a bird he saw while walking along Canal street, a couple of pictures of people tandem biking. Every idea, memory of the events of the day was replaying in his mind. When his thoughts became garbled, and all were meshing together, he knew he was falling asleep. Now all he had to do was let go. But not until he thought of the redhead who made him feel wanted...special. And Mickey liked it. Liked it enough that he couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow and start the day again, knowing somebody would be sending him constant messages and silly pictures. He was closer now, drifting, listless. Tomorrow. Mickey would be seeing Clayton tomorrow.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's super short, I know. I just wanted them to get into that friendship phase, and unbeknownst to each other that they like one another already. but also, someone is trying to keep it cool, and let's name him Mickey. Teehee. Whereas Ian.. calm down, yo! 
> 
> I hope you guys are still enjoying it and continue to read the fic even if I update weekly. Work and learning to play the guitar (I like being busy and I admit that I’m easily distracted so I try to do stuff all at once, like literally in one sitting 🙂) so I apologize if y’all have to wait a bit for updates.
> 
> ••• okay, Mickey had Ian/Clayton's name under WEASLEY (Ron Weasley from Harry Potter) coz he's ginger and Ian/Clayton is ginger and Mickey is an ass, and he used that name for Ian/Clayton in his phonebook :)


	9. Let's Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys went out for a ride somewhere familiar yet different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something makes a comeback in the storyline that ain't important. or is it?

August 25, 2006

5:45 AM

  
  


“You're late.”

Ian, to be honest, had not slept at all. If two hours of sleep is what you would call an ample amount of a night’s sleep before what he thought would probably be the most important day in his and Alek’s relationship as ‘friends’. No, he hadn’t slept at all.

“Sorry, I woke up… uhm, late.” He scratched the back of his head, pulling the ends of his still damp hair. “Johnson,” Ian extended his hands and grabbed his newly purchased bike from his bodyguard and said to him, “Maybe pick me up at around noon?”

“No, hey. I’ll take him back to the hotel. Don’t worry about it, Johnson.” Alek waved a hand at the man then winked at Ian.

_Oh._

Ian looked at what Alek was wearing. He had a blue spandex shirt that hugged every bulge, every crevice of his upper body. Ian could clearly define the strong muscles of his chest down to his taut stomach, his biceps and forearms. He noticed the light brown, almost blonde hair on his arms, sparsely distributed on his pale skin. His black athletic shorts weren't helping Ian’s scanning gaze. Alek had on these ridiculously sinful shorts that were not the usual baggy bike shorts that Ian often saw urban riders wear, but these form fitting shorts that left nothing to the eye. Ian audibly gulped as he saw Alek bend down to fasten his water jug onto the bottle cage on the down tube of his matte black drop bar bike. This was the first time Ian had a view of Alek’s ass. The previous times he saw Alek, he was always wearing loose band shirts under some soft flannel shirt with loose jeans that had holes in them. This outfit... _Christ._ Ian wished he brought his extremely dark large sunglasses and not these semi-tinted yellow Ray ban shades that he thought would look cool on him. Now how could he possibly conceal his stupid gawking of Alek’s body? Ian just had to be discreet about it then, but how, when Alek was looking like an actual piece of candy in front of his eyes. _Ugh_.

“You sure you’re wearing that firecrotch?” Mickey snickered a bit while he purposely looked at Clayton from head to toe. He was wearing bright red Nike bike shorts with a bright yellow spandex shirt, silver and blue Nike cleat shoes, which Mickey was sure was worth more than his bike. It just occurred to him that with Clayton’s hair color, his choice of shade for his shirt, shorts, and shoes, he looked exactly like Eliza Thornberry. Mickey had to bite his lip from laughing out loud, cause honestly, only Ian could pick the most obnoxious outfit for a regular bike ride. 

Ian was still openly staring at Alek’s skimpy shorts when he felt something hitting his face. _Ow!_

“Why the fuck did you do that for?” as Alek’s towel dropped from his face to his chest.

“I was asking if you’re sure you want to wear that or not? Because we can go up to my apartment and get you better clothes, man.” 

“Why, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing, not unless you want to actually destroy somebody’s retina with your high visibility clothes under the scorching sunlight. Well, go ahead then ginger, wear them clothes.”

“I… “ Ian felt his skin burning. It felt like his body was skewered exactly in the middle and was placed inside a rotisserie oven, preheated at four hundred and fifty degrees, slowly being heated up to crisp perfection. His ghastly pale skin probably looked like strawberry right now. A large, very ripe strawberry. “Just bought this at Brookefield yesterday. The girl said this is what the bikers usually wear.” 

“In Manhattan? Dude, I don’t think so.” Alek raised his eyebrows. 

“Sir.” Johnson interrupted. 

“Alright, Johnson.” Ian was momentarily distracted and gave his bodyguard a brief look. “I’ll text you where we are going and what time you will be expecting me back at the hotel.”

“Very well, sir.” he said back to Ian then turned to the other man, “Alek.” then walked away to the awaiting car parked at the side of the road.

Mickey walked ahead of Clayton, back to the building, and tread up until they reached the third floor. They were walking slowly, like they were tiptoeing on each other. There was silence between them, but it wasn’t uneasy or tension filled, more like a lull. Like one was waiting for the other to do something. Mickey looked back at Clayton, who's trailing behind him, head bent down. He turned around fully and held the handlebar of Clayton’s mountain bike.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before, huh? Like went off road somewhere with your friends?” 

“I know how to ride a bike. What do you think I am?”

“A spoiled rich boy who has his own personal chauffeur, nanny and chef.”

“Is that what you think of me, a spoiled brat who gets whatever he wants, all the goddamn time?”

Mickey reached for Clayton’s arm as soon as he saw the anxiety creeping across his face. He settled on touching his hand, brushing his white and tensed knuckles with his thumb. “Hey, I’m just kidding. I never thought of you that way, Clayton. I know you’re rich. I just don’t know how much or how, but I know you’re somebody important. C’mon,” he tilted his head to the side and gave him a crooked smile, “Let’s get back to my room, so we can get you some clothes.” 

“You don’t know me, Alek.”

“I know. And today is the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other. C’mon, we need to hurry. We got to catch the sunrise.” 

  
  


_________

  
  


It was beautiful. That’s all Ian could say. Alek and him rode hard, faster than it was necessary for two boys in the dead of morning. He had borrowed a white, fitted jersey shirt from Alek, who may have also suggested wearing his extra chamois shorts under his bright red biker shorts, to make sure his ass and balls were well protected. 

They saw the first orange hued rays of sunrise kissing the still barren Hudson River. Alek was expecting some fisherman boats or even ferries on the water, but this morning, all they could see was the vastness of the water, and how the soft rays of the sun touched the river, reflecting warm glows to the still waking city. The sky was filled with mighty colors--- red, orange, yellow and pink, racing to every direction in the sky, filling every space in the horizon. Ian couldn’t look away, his eyes mesmerized, like it was urging him to stare more, until the warmth reached him, completely enveloping his body. 

He wished he had just continued looking at the skies. But his eyes betrayed him and landed on the man beside him. Ian found Alek’s head turned towards the sky, his eyes closed as if he was waiting for the sun to say something to him. He was smiling, his lips upturned as he took a breath, probably inhaling the scent of the sea and the morning sun.

“Beautiful.” Ian said.

“Hhmm.” Mickey opened his eyes to the sound of Clayton’s voice. “Yes it is.” he agreed as he watched a few heron’s flying over the river. Mickey chanced a look at Clayton and saw him watching him. He awkwardly settled his eyes towards him, his hand gripping his handlebars hard. Mickey stared at Clayton, for what seemed like minutes, maybe hours, he didn't know, until he dropped his gaze. He shifted uncomfortably away from Clayton’s fixed look, suddenly aware of how intense it was making him feel. Mickey nervously backed away, his foot getting caught on the pedal of his bike. The small space that he was trying to make, to move away from Clayton, seemed to have gotten smaller when he found himself falling head on to the other man’s chest. 

“Fuck.” Mickey croaked out as he felt his body plummeting. He felt firm hands on his waist as he saw his bike continued to fall on the pavement. 

“I got you.”

It was the smell that first hit Ian. Not the full body weight of Alek’s body crashing into him. His smell. _Alek’s smell._ The moment he grabbed hold of his waist, his olfactory nerve was stimulated, firing signals in his brain of the spicy, woody masculine yet soft smell of sandalwood and vanilla of Alek’s neck when he accidentally sniffed him. Ian couldn’t help it, he inadvertently hooked his chin on the other man’s collar and turned his head to smell his pulse point. They were struggling to keep upright, the impact of Alek’s body falling towards him made Ian’s knees feel like putty.

He would say this to Alek, if he asked him why he was holding him this way, like he was cradling the man in his arms, their bodies so close, the space between them impalpable. But to Ian, only to him, he would never admit this to Alek, he knew he was knocked off his feet, by the man whose smell is imprinted within the recesses of his brain.

“Shit. sorry, man. I was..” Mickey tried to get his coordination and balance back. That was fucking embarrassing, he thought. He was a grown ass man, who lifts and hauls trash bins for a living. He was not a damsel in distress that needed rescuing, like he had no control of his limbs. But why did he feel uneasy with the way Clayton was looking at him? “Okay, fuck.” he stepped away slowly, composing himself before looking back at Clayton. “I got it.” 

Both of them were giving each other nervous smiles, hands holding their bikes as they walked along Pier 46. Their feet shuffling, purposely avoiding each other’s gazes. His stomach started to shift uneasily and he noticed the knuckles of his hand clasping the top tube and drop bars of his bike, turning his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping them. Mickey loosened his hold, tried to relax his hands a bit. But he needed to keep telling himself what to do with his hands. The constant need to touch something rendered within himself some sort of reassurance. If he totally let go and released his firm grip, he might reach out to someone and hold that person instead, and this feeling was making him feel uneasy. Mickey had to ease the tension, maybe say something instead. And the only thing he could think of at six fifty eight in the morning, is that they needed coffee. Strong black coffee, if possible. To get him out of this heady daze.

“Are you a coffee person or a tea person?”

A muscle twitched in the corners of Ian’s mouth. He didn’t expect Alek to speak, both of them unsure of what to do after he had held the other man’s body, his smell permanently permeated within his brain. There were already a few people on the boardwalk, a couple or so joggers, some who had come out of their shops and were now opening up their stores. Ian saw a couple pushing a baby stroller and laughing leisurely as they walked, barely aware of two boys who were by now having their own inner turmoil of decisive and indecisiveness of what was happening between them.

“I like coffee.” Ian responded, his eyes moving quickly at Alek.

“Alright. Are you okay walking a couple of blocks or would you rather we bike to Charles street?”

“I’m okay walking.”

“Okay.”

The walk to the Elk took them seven minutes. Everything was casual, very light. Ian found out in those few minutes that Alek worked in the sanitation industry. He was not comfortable calling him a garbage man. Ian knew Alek may have only gotten the job out of necessity rather than his obvious intellect and street smarts. He, on the other hand, told him that in three weeks he would be going to Yale for college and may need to stay there for a few years. Alek seemed to be happy for him and may have indirectly revealed that if he had taken his GED, he may also have thought of going to community college.

“What would you like your major to be?” Ian asks.

“Well, I’m always fascinated with structures, construction and design. If only architecture is cheap, I would probably get into that.”

“I mean, there’s financial aids, or maybe grants? I could totally hook you up with my grandfather’s company?”

“Nah, I don’t think I’m cut out for that. I’ll let the smart ones have a go. I’m okay pulling trash from people’s houses, stores, like just recently going to this tacky almost gaudy hotel in Canal Street.”

“What did you just say?”

“Tacky... gaudy hotel. I mean what does Le Coucou even mean? So fucking pretentious.”

Ian stopped in his tracks. He stared at the back of Alek’s head. There may have been a moment when the other man noticed no one was following him and decided to turn around and look for Ian. He strode back to where Ian’s feet were stuck, his eyes searching his... waiting. Alek came closer, a couple of feet away from Ian. “Hey, what’s up? We’re so close.”

“You went to Le Coucou hotel? When?” Ian asked inquisitively.

Alek cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow, eyes squinting, “Uhm, maybe a week or so ago. Why?”

“Did you ever… was there a time when you hauled some stuff there that are, odd. Like gifts?”

“Yeah. Joe, my partner had a call from our boss and told us to make a detour to get some stuff in the hotel. Why?”

“I lost something that day.”

“What, a watch, some jewelry?”

“My luggage.”

_The Luggage._

“What kind of luggage?” Mickey’s senses were already on high alert. He remembered that day. He remembered the luggage. “What does it look like?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just this globe trotter brown suitcase that I stupidly splurged on before my birthday. I even have my initials engraved on it, like some douchebag.” Clayton said nonchalantly. “I don’t even care if some hippie chick is using it as a coffee table or bookend.”

“But, if in case I knew where I can probably find it, like have it back to you… “

“You know what, okay. If ever there was a chance I could have that bag again, not that it would matter now, cause I could have another one custom made for me again, sure. Fine. I’m alright having it returned back to me.”

Mickey had actually forgotten about that luggage. When he got it inside his apartment, he literally just shoved it inside his walk-in closet, didn’t even try opening it to find out what its contents were. It was probably taking up a lot of space in his already cramped up closet. He remembered the initials, **ICG** . Clayton did mention his luggage was monogrammed, and he does know what a globe trotter looks like. But the initials though, it was throwing him off. Like, _was Clayton ICG?_

“Alek, I’m honestly cool with it. Don’t worry about it.” Clayton walked forward, rolling his bike with him. Mickey found himself fumbling to follow him. “I haven’t even thought of that damn luggage for days. C’mon man, we gotta get that coffee and maybe a bagel if they have one.”

Mickey felt confused but also relieved that to Clayton the luggage was nothing. He felt he needed to tell the other of what happened to his lost bag, that maybe Mickey had it in his possession and also maybe he thought that luggage would reveal something of himself, since he may have accidentally stolen the item from him. But also of Clayton, which by now has made him curious and strangely interested in what ICG really stands for.

  
  


_________

  
  
  


They spent the whole morning together. Six hours of riding the path from New York city to Brewster, where the Old Putnam Trailway could be found. Ian hadn’t ever ridden a bike like this, where he could unhurriedly see the sites of Westchester County, which was the northern side of the metropolis. From Somers to Mount Pleasant, they pedaled their bicycles to the long, gradual inclines of the terrain. They passed the beautiful old bridge across the New Croton Reservoir, the small, sleepy town of Saw Mill River road, where they did their first pit stop before continuing to the Old Putnam County Trailway. Everything started becoming hilly, and his calves can attest how he strained all his muscles just so he could keep up with Alek. Ian has to admit, from where he was at, slightly behind Alek, he could clearly see the other man’s strong leg muscles, contracting and relaxing with every pedal his foot made. There was a V-shaped sweat patch on his back, starting from his neck extending down to the lumbar part of his spine. Honestly, Ian wasn’t complaining. Not a bit. 

The view was glorious to be honest, everything seemed untouched by gentrification or any renovations. Everything in his sight was gritty, old and abandoned. And Ian loved it. Loved that there was a place in New York where it was simple and unbridled. But with every opportunity that he could stare at Alek, and see how much he enjoyed this... The simplicity of just riding to unchartered territories that were untouched by modernization, he would take this site over any beautiful place that any modern city could offer him.

They stopped when they were nearing a small alcove nestled at the junction of the road going to Hastings Village. Alek grabbed his bottle from its holder and started drinking his water. His chin jutted up, neck fully extended and exposed. Ian watched his Adam's apple bob, up and down as he swallowed. He swallowed himself, letting his thick saliva that has pooled involuntarily in his mouth, and he let it slide down his esophagus, rendering moisture in his seemingly dried throat. Ian felt more thirsty than ever, like he had walked the Sahara desert for days. There was some water dripping from the sides of Alek’s mouth, making a wet trail from his mouth to his neck. Ian wanted to lick that moisture off his skin, make that his source of sustenance to quench his thirst.

“Gross.” He uttered with no hint of annoyance.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” Alek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Smearing the moisture across his face, his lips glistening with the wetness. Ian gulped again.

“You’re all wet.” Ian reflexively reached out and wiped Alek’s lips with his thumb.

Ian was horrified. He pulled his hand as fast as he had unthinkingly extended it to touch Alek’s face. He couldn't believe what he had done. There was mild shock on Alek's face, his face flushing pink from the apples of his cheeks to his forehead. He never flinched from the contact, as though the shock of that impulse rendered him paralyzed. They were both looking at each other wide-eyed, lips parted, mouths too dry to speak.

“I…” Ian tried to say.

“You… ” Mickey countered.

“Don’t… didn't mean to do that.” Ian hurriedly turned around and walked to the opposite side of the road. He wanted to run, to leave his bike on the road, and just run. No one would rescue him from this embarrassment, he didn’t know what came over him. This was just humiliatingly inappropriate on so many levels. Ian was still dragging his bike with him, the dirt and rocks from the road hitting his exposed legs. 

There was a moment between action and consequence. If Mickey made this accidental gesture of Clayton as something malicious, it would mean he would be putting some boundaries between him and Clayton, and make everything more awkward than necessary. Or, he could brush it off as something sweet that two friends do to each other because, yes, he was sloppy. And yes, he might’ve looked gross as fuck. Mickey geared into action and decided, _fuck it,_ he was okay with it. Actually, _he quite enjoyed it?_

“Clayton. Hey, Clayton.” Mickey got on his bike and started pedaling. He passed Clayton and intentionally blocked his way. “Hey, stop.”

Clayton wasn’t looking at him, he was still looking everywhere but Mickey. He hopped out of his bike and dropped it on the road. Mickey sprinted to Clayton doing only four steps and crowded him. He was breathing hard, his face all flushed, nose flaring. Mickey cupped his face, forcing him to look at him. “Hey.”

“Please don’t look at me.” Clayton had his eyes closed shut, his face crumpled like he was in pain.

“Hey,” Mickey brushed the tips of his fingers on Clayton’s cheeks, “Look at me.”

Slowly, Clayton opened his eyes, his irises blown double its size. His lips were quivering, like he was afraid of what he would see. Mickey gave him his most genuine smile. He continued stroking his face, as lightly as he possibly could until he could feel Clayton relax, and make him understand that it was okay. They were looking at each other with Mickey’s hand on Clayton’s face and Clayton’s hands wound around Mickey’s wrists. 

Two boys right in the middle of the road, standing in front of each other, with their hands holding one another, like they were lovers. It seemed that at any moment, somebody would snap a photo of them and put it in some Hallmark card, capturing the exact moment of a look that would describe a blossoming relationship. 

Mickey actually didn’t mind that, how they looked right now. And from the looks of how Clayton was holding his hands and the soft smile on his face, he probably didn’t mind it either.

“I’m sorry.” Ian uttered as he broke the silence. He was breathing rapid and shallow, and felt his heart pounding like crazy. It wasn’t that he was fearful of what Alek would say, but more of the excitement and exhilaration of what was to come. 

“Don’t.” Alek softly said. “It’s okay.”

“You're not mad?”

“Not at all.” 

“Okay.” Ian exhaled through his mouth, with the breath that he never realized he was holding.

“Hmm, c’mon. I don’t feel like biking back to Manhattan.” Alek dropped his hands from his face, bringing both their hands to his sides. He wrapped his small hand around Ian’s and tugged it. “Let’s go catch the train.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are many mentions of places in Manhattan and NYC which I just googled. i haven't been to these places, but I saw a blog of this bike trail and it just seems pretty for a not so non date for the boys. this is just pure fluff. indulge me please! I only like sweet, tender stuff for Mickey and Ian.
> 
> *** please comment if the name changes confuses you guys. cause I think I'm nearing the moment where they will reveal their true identities and back stories to each other. 
> 
> *** btw, I love all your comments. thank you so much.


	10. Out Of My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i will call you whatever i want, okay. but please don't freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was supposed to be just a regular work day morning for Mickey, until somebody had to call him and rock his world.

August 31, 2006

9:01 AM

  
  


Joe has been looking at his partner for a good ten minutes now, actually he’d been noticing something different. Mickey had never been the type who would tell him stuff, stuff that he thought would make Joe feel uncomfortable. The gay stuff. Joe didn’t ask, never tried to pry, honestly didn’t even mind that Mickey was gay. That’s his business, he didn’t care who he fucks or sucks just as long as he’s always careful. Joe often had talks with Mickey, reminding him to be safe, to not go with some random guy on the street, to wear a condom all the time and to never bring the guy into his home where he could be in danger. Mickey was like a son to him. He’d brought him to his home, met his wife, his two sons, and treated him like family. Brian, his oldest, welcomed him as his brother from day one. He introduced him to all his friends, brought him to parties, basketball games, to his school, even encouraged him to get his GED for whenever Mickey finally decided on going to college. Joe wanted more from Mickey, hell, he didn’t want him to be a garbage man his whole life. This boy deserved a good life, a better life than this. But with the way he was looking at his young friend, his son, there was definitely something going on that he didn’t know about. And Joe had had enough.

“Mick, c’mon, let’s put this container in the truck.” Joe said to Mickey who was exactly three feet away from him… singing. He had his back to Joe, his right hand grabbing the handle for the lift, feet crossed on the front, hips cocked to the side. Mickey had his eyes on the street, seemingly oblivious of Joe and what he’d said. 

_Was I out of my head, was I out of my mind?_

_How could I ever be so blind?_

_I was waiting for an indication, it was hard to find._

“Mickey!” Joe said louder. He was holding the lid of a trash dumpster, and was waiting on Mickey to give him a hand to put the container on the lift. But the fucker was so lost in the moment of singing, god damn it. 

“Mickey, are you fucking deaf?” He almost shouted. Still nothing. 

_Don’t matter what I say, only what I do._

_I never mean to do bad things to you._

_So quiet, but I finally woke up._

_If you're sad, then it’s time you spoke up too._

Joe paused for a moment before releasing his hold on the lid of the trash dumpster. He walked but two steps forward and tapped Mickey on the shoulder, startling the boy, “You know what, in the two years that we’ve worked together, never have I heard you fucking sing, Mick. What’s going on?” He asked, his brown eyes unmoving, a quizzical look expressed on his face. 

“Jesus, Joe.” Mickey staggered backward, his mind swirling like he’d been snapped out of a daze. “What do you mean?” he said as he faced Joe, who was looking at him funny. 

“I’ve been calling you for fifteen minutes, Mick. What the fuck is going on in your head?” Joe moved briskly, stepping in front of Mickey and pulled the lever of the hydraulic to bring down the lift. “Singing… at work, and being distracted all the goddamn time.” He pulled Mickey to the garbage receptacle and motioned for him to hold the other end of the container. “That phone of yours is like a fifth limb on you now, Mick. Always smiling, laughing at god knows what. You in love or something, son?”

He stared at Joe for an unnecessary number of seconds, before he answered, “No.” as he followed Joe to the truck, both of them put the receptacle to the loading hopper and watched it being lifted to the packer panel.

“No? I’ve never known you to be a liar, Mick.” 

As soon as the container was lowered down, both men grabbed each end of the receptacle and rolled it back to the side of the street. They were done with the second round of the morning, and decided earlier that they would get some tacos and burritos at Al Horno for lunch. There was an unnerving silence between the two men, one was trying desperately to avoid the question, while the other was waiting for some sort of admission. They walked quietly to the truck and sat at their usual positions, Joe at the driver’s seat, and Mickey on his right. 

“Mickey, you’re like a son to me. I’ve never asked you to tell me everything that’s happening to you, not that I’d mind, cause I don’t fucking care who you share your bed with. But if what’s happening here is something serious, I need to at least meet the guy so I would know who to kill if he breaks your heart.”

Joe wasn’t looking at Mickey, his eyes firmly looking at the ongoing traffic while he said this. Mickey knew he had to tell him how things were in his life. He thought he could still savor it, this source of tiny pockets of joy in his life. He imagined Clayton and Joe meeting, maybe inviting the redhead to their office, or maybe making a detour to Clayton’s hotel, and asking him to go down and meet Joe for a sec. Mickey didn’t mean for it to become this way, like Clayton was some secret he had to hide. Or him being selfish and not sharing him with anybody else. But Mickey wasn’t even sure what they were. If he was worth introducing to the people who know him. If they were in fact only friends or…

“I’ve met someone.” he hurriedly said.

“Okay. Is that so hard to say?” Joe glanced at him briefly before saying. “So, who’s the guy?”

“His name is Clayton, and we’ve sort of been hanging out for a week now, maybe more.”

“Okay. Is he local?”

“Well… “ Mickey thought for a second. He did know that Clayton had been living in a hotel for a few weeks now, and he also knew he’d be leaving to go to Connecticut in two weeks. “I think so. I kind of saved him.”

“Saved, like from being killed, saved?”

“Yeah. He was walking at 14th street, drunk off his mind and was about to get hit by a van.”

“So what, you brought him to the hospital?”

“No, I… brought him home. With me.”

“Why the fuck did you do that, Mick? I told you not to bring strangers to your apartment.” Joe stepped on the brakes so fast, both of them were tugged forward with the force of the truck being stopped abruptly. “Mick, you know better than this.” Joe completely turned off the ignition, unlocking the seat belt from its holder. “What if he was a murderer, did you ever think of that?”

“He’s not like that, Joe.”

“Yeah but he could’ve been!” Joe looked at him, disappointment written in his face. He opened his side of the door and stepped down from the truck. “Son, you got to learn how to take care of yourself. You’ve only lived alone for what, a few weeks? And now you go about and bring god knows who to your place. There’s a lot of crazies out there, Mick.”

Mickey stepped down from the truck and circles to the front, going to Joe’s side, “I know, Joe. I can take care of myself. You don’t always have to worry about me.”

“I told you, you can stay at my house. Brian practically lives in his dorm now, only goes back during the weekends.”

“Joe, we’ve been through this before. I want my independence, I don’t want to rely on anybody.”

“Mickey… “

“Hey, he’s really not like that. In fact, we’re not even… he’s just a friend.” Mickey said quickly. “But also, you won’t believe the fucking coincidence of who this guy is.”

“What, is he the messiah or something? Is he Jesus?” Joe peered at his face, resolutely unimpressed.

“Fucking hell, how did Jesus get into this?”

“Boy, you better buy me lunch if this is going to be a long story, cause I’m fucking starving.”

“Yeah, old man. I’ll buy you lunch.” he tapped him on the arm as they got inside Al Horno.

They were seated at the farthest booth in the cramped restaurant, chatting normally while they were having their thirty minute break. Mickey told Joe about Clayton. How it surprised him to find out that he was the guy who threw out all his gifts into the trash in that hotel in Canal street and that he was in fact the owner of the globe trotter bag Mickey had brought home. He also told the story of the night he saved Clayton, deleting the detail of how he was actually checking out Clayon before he saved him from impending death through stupidity. Of how he carried the redhead to his apartment, or when two grown men took him and carried his drunken, listless body out of his apartment in the dead of the night, like Clayton was some dead alley cat that they needed to discard.

“His name is Clayton Gallagher, and he’s been staying at the Le Coucou hotel for more than a month.”

“So a rich boy then?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What then, you guys are just keeping it casual?”

“We’re not even… nothing happened. Nothing is happening, Joe.”

“Okay.” Joe mumbled as he munched on his taco loudly, 

“What do you mean, okay?”

“Mick, I’ve been looking at you and your pretty face for two years. Two years, Mick, and I've never seen your eyes twinkle like disco lights.”

“The fuck you saying?”

“Like”, Joe raised his hands to his face, his fingers joined together by the tips, like he was pinching salt, opened and closed them quickly, implying Mickey’s eyes were sparkling like the stars. He did it twice before continuing, “that’s how you look whenever you look at your phone, or earlier when you were singing.”

“Bullshit, I don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Be honest enough to tell me that this Clayton guy is making you act and look soft?”

“You and your…” Mickey stopped as he heard his phone ring. “I…”

“Aren’t you going to answer that, Mick?” Joe chuckled as he ate his second taco. “That might be your lover boy.”

“Shut up, Joe.” 

Speak of the devil. It was the red haired monster himself, his picture emblazoned on the screen of his two year old Razr. Just before the second round of ringing ensued, Mickey picked up the phone and turned to the side to not let Joe see his face.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“I’ve been up for hours, idiot. I know it’s morning.”

“Aaww, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Uhm… “ Mickey hastily stood up and walked out of the restaurant, but not before he heard Joe say, “Say hi to mister twinkle twinkle for me, Mick.”

He covered the mouthpiece of his phone at the exact time Joe jokingly said his name. Mickey walked fast towards the aisle then out the door. There were a couple people outside, waiting for their takeaways, smoking a cigarette. He leant on the wall beside them and brought his phone back to his ear.

“Sorry, we were having lunch.”

“Yeah, I know. You take your lunch breaks at nine thirty in the morning every day.”

“Okay, mister I’m-obsessed-with-knowing-somebody-else’s-daily-itinerary.”

“I just like time tables, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’d make a great accountant someday, Clayton. You should be so proud of yourself.”

“So. “

“So… “

“You ready tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Yeah, and once you see your friends in the club, It’s bye bye, Alek. See you when I see you.”

“I won’t do that to you. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. And besides, you’re the only friend I’ve got here in Manhattan, Alek. It’s just you and me baby.”

_Baby?_

Ian gasped right after he’d said it. It just slipped out of his mouth. Alek was silent on the other line, like he was also surprised with the term of endearment. He couldn’t will his lips to move, his mind completely blanking.

“I…”

Mickey was standing motionless, trying to remember how to breathe. He was totally stunned by what Clayton had just said. _Baby._ His brain desperately scrambled for something to say, just to diffuse the situation. He chose to act nonchalant and pretend he was cool with it.

“Okay, Daddy. Baby will be ready at exactly nine o’clock.” he joked playfully.

Ian chokes from the other line. He swallowed the thick saliva that suddenly pooled in his mouth. It took him a few seconds before his brain had finally found the words to adequately banter with this playful Alek. “Make yourself pretty later and Daddy will give you a surprise.”

They were definitely crossing a line here and Ian's mind was exploding. A good sort of explosion. Every nerve in his body was stimulated. He could feel it, that buzzing. And it was carrying impulses throughout his body. Ian’s mind raced, anticipating the many possibilities of what was to come. Hundreds, thousands of ideas, adventures awaiting him, of Alek… _Them_. 

“We really went there, huh?” Ian asked Alek. 

Mickey felt every fiber of his being vibrating. He felt his hands shaking, his skin tingling from his head down to his toes. His smile grew on its own accord, like he was feeling giddy all of a sudden. Like something ignited inside of him that he couldn’t contain. There was no way to hide it now, cause he was feeling happy. _He is fucking happy._

“Yeah.” 

There was a smile that cracked wide on Ian’s face. Ian imagined Alek doing the same too. He bit his lip, trying to hide how deliriously happy he was at the moment. 

“So.. later, yeah?” Ian asked. 

“Nine o’clock, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Right.”

“So, hope you’ll have a good lunch Alek.”

“Yeah, I have five more minutes left of my break.”

“See you later.”

“Alright, Clayton. Bye.”

  
_***CLICK** _

A smirk was playing at the corner of Ian’s lips as he sat at the end of the bed, staring at his cell phone that was still in his hand. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all. Him and Alek flirting. It didn’t have to mean anything, right? It was just flirting. He hugged himself as he lay on his bed, still cradling the phone in his hand. _Yeah, he can definitely do that._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Mickey was singing was Out of my Head by Fastball. I so loved the line "sometimes I feel like drunk behind the wheel. the wheel of possibility, however it may roll. " I'm a total 90s music kind of girl, and I love the sound and the vibe in that era. I gave you a glimpse of Joe and Mickey's relationship, how he truly is Mick's father figure in his life. And he genuinely loves him, like a son. I love that. Also, the boys are coming out of their comfort zones.. yayy! Are you guys excited? And probably by now, you could tell what's next huh? Club scene. honestly, I'm excited to write the next chapter, but also scared? coz I don't know if I could pull it off. 
> 
> **** thanks for reading my fic, you guys. I see some of you are still here, being patient and enjoying it. truly, that makes me so happy. 
> 
> **** my personal cheerleaders, Jax and Shannon. wow, man. I really couldn't do this without y'all. I appreciate your comments, it's really so sweet. so yeah, you guys hang on okay, imma give you the club scene next.


	11. Who I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> club scene, periodt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...with my body screaming now  
> I know you hearing' it',  
> you got me moaning now.  
> I got a secret set I wanna show you, oh  
> I got a secret imma drop 'em to the floor, oh
> 
> \- Skin by Rihanna

August 31, 2006

8:56 PM

Ian had remained stationary outside the door of Alek’s apartment for seven minutes now. He’d been staring at the exact same spot, a green stain near the peep hole, that for some reason he thought looked like avocado residue or maybe something like a congealed, gooey fluid that may have been from a vegetable smoothie or soup. Ian was thinking of touching it, actually he was even contemplating smelling it. He knew he was stalling, or maybe waiting. If there was anybody that would see him standing immobile in this empty corridor, they would probably think he’d had a stroke or something. Maybe he already had one to be honest. Because for the life of him, he didn’t know why he couldn’t raise his hand to knock on Alek’s door. He didn’t have the strength for it, or maybe he did and he was just delaying the inevitable, that he and Alek were going out. To a club. Just the two of them. Tonight. _Shit._

Actually, if you included the time he’d been waiting inside the car with Peter, he’d been waiting for fifteen minutes now. Peter even had to ask Ian if he wanted him to come and get Alek for him and just wait in the car. But he wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction of seeing Alek, probably decked into something nice, clubby... clingy. There were different scenarios playing in Ian’s mind. One would be him knocking on the door, Alek would obviously open it, let him in and have him wait and… come to think of it, he couldn’t remember if Alek even had a sofa or chairs aside from his queen sized, lavender scented bed? Ian couldn’t recall if he had one, but if Alek asked him to sit on his bed, alright, okay, he would be cool with that. He thought. Second scenario, Ian would be knocking on the door right, and Alek would obviously open the door for him, probably only in his boxers or maybe he was running late and had just got out from the shower, Alek would be opening the door with only a towel wound around his waist, hair all wet and unstyled, his strong chest exposed, tiny rivulets of water streaming down his neck, torso and stomach. Ian closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down. _Jesus Gallagher, quit making everything sensual for fuck’s sake._ Alright, so the third scenario would be Ian knocking on the door and Alek would open it, but he’d be clad in his pajamas, and not for a night out, because he decided on not going clubbing because he was too tired or maybe sick. This actually hampered Ian’s mood, to be honest. Because just maybe, Alek would decide on not going out and would tell him that once he knocked on the door. And that suddenly made him unhappy for some reason, because he really wanted to go out tonight, with Alek, just him and Ian. _Together._

Mickey was ready, had actually been ready for thirty minutes now. He got home at one thirty in the afternoon, took a shower, had a nap for two hours or so, biked to Prince Street, bought himself a slice of the spicy pepperoni for dinner while watching Malcolm in the Middle, took another shower, rummaged through his limited array of clothes, opted for a dark gray semi sheer, fitted shirt, black low rise skinny jeans, black suede brogue boots, and his ever dependable black leather jacket. Mickey was thinking of styling his hair, maybe brushing it up, using a little pomade or mousse, but decided on letting it stay naturally soft. He turned on his desk fan and dried his damp hair, brushing it down then to one side, letting a few tendrils loose, making him look casual but well kempt. Mickey didn’t know if he should be putting cologne or not, he had splurged on one, a year or so ago, and this scent has been his signature since then. This cologne had worked with his body in more ways than one. He often got compliments when he wore it, not that he needed any affirmation from anybody, but he liked this smell on him. It made him feel more than what he actually was. 

It was two minutes past nine o’clock and Mickey was getting anxious. Clayton did say nine o’clock right? He checked his watch, and saw that it was past that time. Mickey had a flash of panic, what if Clayton was waiting for him downstairs, inside the car with Johnson and Peter? Or what if Clayton was at the club already and he was supposed to meet him there? Mickey checked his phone, making sure it wasn’t on silent or if he had received any calls or texts from Clayton while he was taking a shower. _Nothing._ He then decided on going to his window and took a peek at the street to see if Clayton was waiting outside his building and needed him to ring him up. Parked across his building was a black town car and Mickey was fairly certain that was the same car that drove him and Clayton to Prince Street. _Fuck._ He hurriedly took his keys and wallet from the kitchen table and dashed to his door. Mickey opened it and there in front of him was Clayton. A tiny gasp escaped his lips.

There was a static energy surrounding them, that was crackling in the air, as if the two of them were some sort of disturbance in the stillness of the night. They were gazing at each other, eyes fixed on each other’s faces. They held each other’s stares far longer than necessary until their brains registered it as a surprise.

_Wow._ “Hi” Ian muttered.

_Wow._ “Hey.” Mickey said back.

Clayton was wearing a striped black and white silk, short sleeved, button up shirt, tucked in a black slim cut denim. He was holding a black blazer and had his phone out, as though he was about to call him or something. 

“I was about to knock, but you already opened the door.” Ian was feeling breathless, like the time he saw the sunrise in the Hudson with Alek. It was a beautiful sight, he’d admit, but here, right now, in front of him was an even better vision of beauty. Alek knocked out that sunrise by a mile. 

“Oh, yeah. I… I thought you were waiting for me downstairs.”

“I had to come up and see you.”

“Okay.”

“You look great.” _Why the hell did he just say that?_ “I mean, you cleaned up nice.” _fucking shut up Gallagher._ “I meant…”

“Geez, thanks man. You too, not that you ever looked bad to begin with.” _What?_

Ian started scratching the back of his neck, which seemed to be getting warmer by the minute. “So..” he closed his mouth then looked at his shoes before glancing back up Alek’s eyes. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah, let me just… uhm, lock up.” Mickey stepped out of his door, turned around and pulled it shut. He made sure the door was locked before slipping in the keys in his front pocket. 

“So, where are we going?”

“I know a place in Washington street. I already called in so we don’t need to get in line to go inside.”

“You trying to impress me, Mister Gallagher?”

“Have I?”

“You wish. Buy me a couple of drinks, and I’ll let you know if you did?”

Ian smirked, his left eyebrow raising, “Just two drinks huh? I can do that.” then put a false swagger on his face, concealing how nervous he is. He put on his jacket and brought his phone to his ear, “Hi, Peter. We’re about to come down. You can start the car now.”

  
  


_________

  
  


From the outside, The Boxers would look like any regular building in Manhattan. Nondescript and unassuming. If Mickey would ever pass by this place, he wouldn’t know it was actually a bar, a sports gay bar nonetheless. Clayton had held his hand once they stepped out of the car and never let it go. Not even when they were coming in the back entrance, or even when the hispanic security guy escorted them to a table near the end of the bar. There were several TVs mounted on every wall where you could watch games, and tonight it seemed everybody was watching the Yankees game. At the back of the bar was a pizza ordering station, beside it was the pool table where a few people were playing and exactly perpendicular to it is what seemed to be a ping pong table. _Okay._

“So, uhm…” Ian was looking around the room, his eyes making a mental note of where the entrance and exit were and the stairs that would lead to the roof deck. “I’m going to order us some drinks. What do you want to start with Alek?” Ian asked him. He was grinning widely, like he had just won a million bucks. Who was Ian kidding? He may just have that exact amount laying around somewhere in his hotel room. Maybe, with the person he was with right now, Ian fucking won a gazillion dollars then with the way his companion looked. 

“I’ll have Bacardi and Coke, please.” Mickey responded, but not before looking at their clasped hands and placing them on top of the table. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” Ian said quickly as he dropped Alek’s hand.

Mickey bit his lip. “Are you sure you’re sorry? You haven’t even let my hand go since we got out of the car.”

“I’m gonna get us that drink now.” Ian stood abruptly, almost toppling over from the stool he was sitting on. 

Mickey began to laugh, and held the stool before it completely fell on the floor. “I got it. Go get our drinks, man.” 

Ian ran a hand through his hair as he walked to the bar. He squeezed the back of his neck muscles, to release the sudden tension in them. Ian didn’t know where he left his false swagger, the one that confidently reached out for Alek’s hand in the car and waved at the doorman as if they were old friends. Ian had to make some calls earlier, to make sure there would be somebody meeting them at the back door, to reserve a table where the noise and music was almost absent. Fuck, he was doing so well. Not until he chanced a look at Alek’s face and everything around them just became muted. Like they were the only ones in the bar, and he wasn’t hearing Britney Spears singing Toxic in the background. He didn’t realize he was still holding Alek’s hand, to be honest. It was natural for him to hold his date’s hand during a night out. He never meant to make things awkward.

“You ready to order, kid?” The bartender wearing orange boxers asks him.

“Yeah, can you get me a gin and tonic and bacardi and coke, please.”

“Can I see your ID?”

Ian whipped out his wallet and ID, his fake driver’s license that he often used when he went out, and his AMEX card. The bartender checked his identification card, gave him a look then handed him back his license. “Alright Ian, you wanna keep a tab?

“Yeah, sure.”

The guy expertly whipped out their drinks and slid it in front of Ian then tapped the table. “Enjoy.” he said perfunctorily.

Ian walked over to their table and placed Alek’s drink in front of him.

“Thanks. I’ve never been here before.” Mickey tilted his head, eyes roaming around the place. More people started filtering in the club. But where they were seated right now, Mickey noted that they seemed to be situated in the most secluded part of the bar. _Alright._

“Oh yeah.” Ian took a sip of his gin and tonic and grimaced. _Shit, this drink is strong._

“Been living in New York for two years and the only clubs I’ve been to are The Belfry and Hustler. How pathetic is that?” Mickey stirred his drink, his thumb and index finger holding the thin straw, making circular motions. 

“You were working a lot and besides, I like to be the one to bring you to places.”

“Are you planning on bringing me to Paris or something?” Mickey snickered as his lips wound around the thin black straw, hollowing his cheeks as he slurps his cocktail. 

_Jesus._ Ian took a huge gulp of his strong drink. “Do you have a passport?”

“Fuck you, I was kidding.” the other man huffed, taking another sip of his drink.

“I’m not.” Ian grinned then dropped his gaze to their hands, the tips of their fingers almost touching.

“Did you bring me here to just talk or are we here to dance?” Mickey brought his glass to his lips, downing the remainder of the drink.

“You sure you have the moves to keep up with me, Alek.”

Mickey laughed, his head thrown back, exposing his neck. He cocked his head to the side then licked his lips, “Baby, I got moves that’ll put any stripper to shame.” 

“Is that so?” Ian drawled. He held up his hand, putting two fingers in the air. The bartender nodded at him and prepared their next drink. “C’mon Alek, let’s dance.”

  
  


_________

  
  


Ian was in absolute pain. He was praying, actually pleading to all the Gods to make him not pop a fucking boner in front of total strangers on the dance floor, more so in front of Alek. He’d had his arms looped around Alek’s stomach, his other hand holding his hip for what seemed to be an eternity now. And Alek, well, he was just mercilessly grinding his ass against his front, and Ian was fucking screwed. 

He should seriously think of suing Rihanna for making this fucking song. _Skin._ Surely it was illegal for someone to be dancing to this kind of music. And Ian was sure Alek knew this song very well. So well that he had timed every bump and shake of his hips as the bass of the music rhythmically thumped to the slow beat. Rihanna’s sultry voice percolated in the air, enticing the dancers to follow her lead, to keep on dancing. Alek’s hand reached up to the side of his neck, grasping his already sweat slicked hair. He rolled his hips purposely, as the beat of the music changed, going slower this time, his ass shifting against Ian’s crotch. _Jesus Christ._ Ian really had to focus and distract himself. He tried to count the pounding in his ears, the throbbing lights in the ceiling, to consciously keep swaying his hips, left, right, keeping pace with the gyrations of Alek’s body. There was a trickle of sweat coming from Alek’s ears down to the sides of his neck. _Fuck, so long for distractions._ Ian watched the droplet cascade down Alek’s neck until it reached the collar of his sheer grey shirt. He thought he was going to combust if Alek didn’t stop what he was doing with his hips. Ian smoothed his hand down Alek’s stomach, reaching the hem of his shirt, and glided it inside, touching the warm, moist skin of his stomach. He thought he was going insane with how much he had always wanted to do this. _Jesus Christ, he wants to touch Alek... fucking more please._

He flipped Alek’s body and found the boy’s face flushed, his pupils blown, lips wet and so impossibly red.

“Fuck me.” He whispered, his dick throbbing in his pants. Alek gave him a shy smile as he kept swiveling his hips to the beat of the song.

“Let’s dance first, firecrotch.” Alek chuckled, hips still moving to and fro, not missing a single beat. He had his right thigh in between Ian’s legs, his left thigh flung over the other. Alek’s hardened cock barely disguised itself, as he continually ground his groin to his thigh. _Jesus, Mary and Joseph._

“You feel so good.” Ian hummed, his head pressing into the crook of Alek’s neck. He bracketted the other boy’s body, his hands almost touching the curve of his ass. “Fuck, you smell so good.” 

Alek giggled, “Shut up.” then wound his right arm around Ian’s waist. 

They were still dancing to the music, their hips moving in sync. The warm energy emanating from their bodies could light up the Empire State Building, could even send a bat signal to the skies if anybody in the metropolis was in need of a fucking hero. 

Mickey moaned as he felt Clayton's hands moving to the meat of his ass, almost kneading them. He started grinding against Clayton’s right thigh faster, harder, seeking the right kind of friction. Clayton rolled his hips, pressing his groin to his thigh. He stepped closer until their bodies were completely flushed together. Every intake of breath, every exhale from their bodies, Mickey could feel it, could even sense when it would happen. They were both hard, so unapologetically hard it was getting too much. They both needed to find a release.

“Clayton.” Mickey whispered. 

“Hhmmm.” Clayton hummed, nuzzling further in the crook of his neck. He could feel Clayton’s right hand sliding further south, his whole hand gripping Mickey’s left ass cheek.

Mickey’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft, high sound escaping his lips. “We have to take this somewhere else.” he weakly said.

“Yeah.” Clayton murmured, as he raised his head from Mickey’s neck. He was looking back at him, their noses almost touching. “You sure?” 

“Yeah.” He stuttered. 

“Fuck.” Clayton croaked out. He was breathing hard, nose flaring, his pupils almost completely covering his irises. 

Ian grabbed Alek’s hand and pulled him into the darkest area of the club. The hallway leading to the booth where the DJ’s setup was situated. This space was like the Bermuda triangle of the bar. Ian knew this, because this was the exact place where he got a blow job from Miguel, one of the bartenders of the club. He pushed Alek against the wall and started palming the front of his jeans. Ian gripped the back of Alek’s neck and nipped at the bottom of his neck. The other boy gasped and sucked a breath in, his hand reaching out, hooking his right hand underneath Ian’s armpit, making their bodies closer. 

“Oh my god.” Mickey breathily whined. He could feel his back pressed hard against the wall, his knees all wobbly as Clayton continued to rub his hand on his groin. “Please.” Mickey whimpered. 

“What do you want, Alek?”

Mickey was so drunk with pleasure, he blurted out, “It’s Mickey.”

“What?” 

Micky leaned back, his heart pounding in his ears. “My name… it’s Mickey.”

Ian loosened his hold on Alek… no, Mickey, dropping his hand to the boy’s sides. He could tell there was probably confusion etched in his face. Mickey, on the other hand, was looking back at him with discernible anxiousness. 

He remained immobile. Ian searched the other boy’s face, willing his mind to decide if this revelation bothered him. If he felt betrayed or if he could trust Alek or Mickey. He knew they met in the most unconventional way. Ian himself had to hide his true identity for fear that his indiscretions would be exposed, his family name being put into shame once again. He blinked, refocused. Ian had to say something, placate the situation, and maybe reveal himself just the same to the other boy. He knew it was time. This moment was the perfect opportunity to come clean and start this… whatever relationship they had, the normal way.

He bit his lip, then moved his hands on Mickey's chest, his face inches away from him. Ian decided from there on, that after this, no matter what happened, he would trust Mickey completely, “Hi Mickey, my name is Ian. Ian Clayton Gallagher. That’s… that’s my real name.”

Mickey breathed out, his face looking softer, the pensive look melting into a shy smile, “Hello Ian Clayton Gallagher, I’m Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. You can just call me Mickey, cause it’s...” he softly said, his wide, curious eyes blinking at him, “my name. Mickey.” 

“Hi Mickey.”

“Hi Ian.”

There was joy when they finally did it, told each other their truths. They locked eyes, their smile mirroring each other. Ian moved his head closer to Mickey, their foreheads touching. 

_Just a little more._ Ian thought to himself. 

They were looking at each other’s lips, Ian remembering the first time he saw Mickey. His eyes were drawn especially to his plump, red lips. He had imagined kissing them in his dreams, many times he had held back those thoughts, afraid if he kept on daydreaming about it, he’d go crazy. 

Mickey leant in, pursed his lips, barely touching Ian’s lips. He took a shallow breath before pressing his lips. Mickey made a close mouthed kiss at first, but found himself pulling back and then diving in, leaning in more until Ian was responding with the same vigor. They broke apart for a second, to catch their breaths, then kissed again, pressing harder, with slightly opened mouths, sucking each other’s lips ever so gently. Both were breathing heavier, chests panting together with uneven breaths. Mickey hardly had a moment to react when Ian pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips, asking for access. He parted his lips wider, making the other boy delve his tongue into his mouth. It was a sloppy kiss, but who cared. Ian’s mouth was so warm, it was starting an inferno inside Mickey’s body. He opened his mouth a bit more, this time asking for access. His curious tongue worming its way inside Ian’s mouth, eliciting a low moan from the other. Mickey’s arms reached up and tangled his hands around Ian’s thick, strong neck, arched up, his head tilting to give the perfect angle to deepen the kiss further. Ian ran his fingers down his spine, his hand drifting to his waist. He pulled Mickey’s body closer, until there was no more space between them.

In that moment the rest of the people in the club became nothing, like they weren't there at all. The buzz came back, the static electricity that they’d felt in Mickey’s deserted hallway. It was like... they were magic.

It was Ian who pulled back first, “Mickey.” He studied Mickey’s face, every emotion at the moment written all over his face. 

“Ian.” Mickey looked up, eyes going crossed at how impossibly close their faces were.

“This is..” he had to savor the euphoric warmth blossoming in his body. Ian wanted to etch Mickey’s face into his brain, to make him remember this look, this tranquil expression on his face. 

“I know.” Mickey gazed back at Ian. He never knew a kiss could be this magnetic. It had inflicted sensations that he never knew he had. There was something unique in their kiss, like it gave him relief, an understanding, a sort of bridge between two minds, two souls, two bodies. Mickey didn’t understand what was happening, but he felt pleased, almost happy. He was glad that he got to have this in his lifetime. With Ian. In this darkened corner. Away from prying eyes. 

The moment was broken when Ian’s phone began ringing. Daniel Powter started singing his song, echoing in the little space they were standing at. 

“Hello?” Ian said as soon as he brought the phone to his ear.

“Ian, son. Where are you?”

“Mom?”

“We made an early flight out of Switzerland. Me and your father have been waiting for you in the hotel for an hour now.”

“Uhm..” his eyes flickered to Mickey, unease blossoming in his face.

“Come back to the hotel right now. We have news for you.”

“Okay, mom. I will be back in a few minutes.” 

Ian sighed, disappointed that tonight would not last longer, as he had first anticipated. He hesitated to speak, embarrassed that he had ruined the moment… their moment.

Mickey spoke before he did, “You okay, Ian?”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Mickey.” Ian cupped Mickey’s face, gently stroking his chin with his thumb. The tips of which brushed his plush lips. He leant down and made a final peck before saying, “I have to go.”

“I heard. For what it’s worth, I had a great time tonight, Ian.”

“Fuck, I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“It was perfect, Ian.” Mickey said this as he wound his hands around his wrists, his hand still holding his face.

“Shit,” he pressed his forehead against Mickey’s, “I… I need to see you again after tonight.” 

“You will.”

“Mickey.” he exasperatedly said. He was cradling Mickey’s neck, like he was using the other boy as an anchor. “I really have to go” 

“Okay.” Mickey murmured at his neck.

“I’ll drop you off before going to the hotel.”

“Okay, but you have to let me go, so we can walk to the car.”

“Shit, Mickey.” Ian was still standing in the same space, his arms encircled tightly around the other boy’s body. 

“I know, Ian. I know.”

  
  


They walked hand in hand out of the bar, out into the night, back to reality. Where Ian had to face his parents and deal with the impending news they have for him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the club mentioned, The Boxers is like one of the oldest lgbtq+ bars in Manhattan, which is actually a sports bar. but from the blogs I've read, the patio and the roof deck is where the dance floors are and at night, they have waiters who are wearing orange boxers (i think that’s their uniform???) moving about to give shots and drinks to the patrons that are dancing. the pictures in their website and blogs looks so fun. and also, they know each other’s names now, huh? like the real them. but I think they need to know more of each other, right? but the trust level is growing. wohoo! 
> 
> *** I wrote this chapter with again, another idea in mind. less handsy, less sexy. no kisses. but then, I had a few drinks last night while writing this and man, I was feeling the boys needed a little something-something, teehee. 
> 
> *** hope you guys are still having fun. thanks for the comments, y'all.
> 
> *** also, I may update after a week or so after this, coz I did two chapters in 2-3 days, ssooozzz... I need to go back to the other stuff that I needed to do.
> 
> *** lots of love to y'all, stay safe.


	12. I Wanna Hear You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian needed to hear the voice of the only person who could give him joy. he calls Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, we get to see Ian's backstory. a couple of people will be introduced that may explain ian's relationship with his parents and the person he is to be married to.

September 1, 2006

12:28 AM

**  
  
  
**

**_Elena Benatti Gallagher_ **

**  
  
**

_At fifteen years old she had moved from Basiglio, Italy, to New York city to pursue higher education. She was a very intelligent child, extremely smart as far as her family was concerned. Elene was sixth among the nine Benatti children, the youngest of all the girls. Her family was not rich, nor were they poor. Upper middle class, if that was what having a small cheese business was like in the societal hierarchy. For twenty years, the Benatti family had run a cheese business, putting up a quaint store in Milan. A steady clientele visited them daily, some even exported their products to nearby countries. Working the tills was not new to Elena, she had handled money with her father since the time she knew how to count. This skill of how to control money, whether it be selling, buying, distributing money or their cheese, she had perfected and knew she could use someday._

_Elena, at a young age, had watched her three older sisters sent off one by one to get married to their parents’ friends. Men who were fifteen, twenty years older than them. The Benatti’s never expected anything less from her, she was told by age thirteen that she was to be married to a man across the Atlantic ocean, a prominent family in America that her family luckily had business with when they had visited Italy. It was a casual agreement, one where it was more of a business opportunity to possibly set up a store in New York or use their cheese as a means of trade. The only condition, her father told the grandfather of the man she is to be married to, was to allow Elena to study abroad and go to a university. She had never been so happy to have heard of this agreement, it was a dream of hers to study abroad and get a college diploma. Her father had always known of her ambitious nature. He had never stopped her from learning, even went out of his way to go with Elena to the library to borrow books, or buy second hand novels that she enjoyed reading with him. She was thankful of how her father made this suggestion, and she would forever be indebted to him for making this decision for her. In return, she would be the obedient daughter who would not disappoint her family, more so her father._

_Going to a university was a dream for Elena and she would not ever take this opportunity for granted. This was her chance to make something out of herself, to not just be seen as a breeder of boys or girls who were also sent off to marry people because of their last names or the amount of money they had to their names. She would often think back, if she had never agreed to this, would Elena ever have this power in her hands, be the silent mind behind an empire?_

_Four years it took for Elena to hold off the wedding, four years of careful planning to know how to manipulate and control her fate. Elena had always been diligent and patient. She learned all that she could, had good relationships with her mentors and peers, was able to make a mark in her academic life in the littlest way that she could, made friends that would benefit her in the long run. On the day of her graduation, she was awarded the William J. Heffernan Memorial and the Amena Elliot Webster Memorial Awards, and the look of pride in her father’s eyes, when she saw him beaming at her in the sea of the crowd, was a sight she would never forget._

To Elena, this was her only weapon, her mind. She would use it to her advantage, every decision, every opportunity where she could whip it out and change the course of destiny. 

And at this moment, looking at her son’s face, she knew she had to do something.

“Ian.”

“Mom.”

Ian had walked into the living room of the suite, his hair disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it several times. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, afraid that he might look unpolished in front of his parents. It was only his mother in the living room, the white andromeda glass lamp the only source of illumination in the darkened room. She was sitting in the farthest corner of the couch, a glass of wine in her hand. His mother looked like she’d already had a couple glasses of wine, with how relaxed her face looked. She was smiling at him lazily, lips tainted dark red, probably from the wine she was drinking. 

The call took him by surprise. He didn’t even think his parents would be in New York for a while. When he saw the name ‘Mom’ shining on his phone’s screen, Ian knew his night with Mickey would come to a halt. 

It was more than a week since he last talked to his father, the day after he’d been severely intoxicated and saved by Mickey while walking through 14th street trying to hail a cab. Ian had waited patiently for tonight, had dreamed of it for days. He was thoroughly enjoying his night with Mickey. _Their night._ He could still feel the heat emanating from Mickey’s body when they were dancing, his smell when he’d put his head in the crook of Mickey’s neck, his warm breath before his lips touched his, their first kiss. Ian had dropped Mickey off in front of his apartment building just a few minutes ago, their hands clasped tightly as they walked to the gate. He had promised to text him once he got inside his hotel room. His hands itching to do that at the moment, but first he had to know why his mother was sitting in the dark corner of the living room, with a glass of wine in her hands. 

“Son, come here and give your mother a kiss.” 

Elena had been talking to the people who were supposed to be keeping an eye on her son. Johnson, the man whom she and her husband had entrusted to be with Ian 24/7, had not been forthcoming on all of her son’s activities. Even Peter and Brett, whom she had spoken to over the phone multiple times, had an unspoken liege with Ian even though their services were procured in the sole purpose of serving the people who paid them. Ernie has questioned both Johnson and Brett for two hours and neither men were able to say exactly where Ian was and who his companion was. It took Elena one phone call to know the identity of the boy her son was with and where Peter had driven them to. 

“Mother, I wasn’t expecting you and Dad to be here so soon. If I had known…” Ian bent forward and gave his mother a double kiss, one on each cheek. She held onto his arms, barely squeezing them as he stood in front of her. His mother gave him a tentative smile and patted Ian’s left cheek. 

“Why, so you can arrange a welcome party for us, Ian? That won’t be necessary.” She tucked her feet under her thighs, and waved her hand in front of her son’s face. “Come sit with your mother.” Elena patted the space beside her and took another sip of her Merlot. She placed the glass on the side table and continued, “Your father and I decided to come back early. We tried very hard to be with you on your birthday. But you know how things are with your dad and grandfather.”

Ian sighed. He did know, he’d been to a handful of the ‘family trips’ his grandfather had arranged throughout the years. The first few times, Ian would gladly go with them with the assumption that it was going to be a vacation with his family, when in fact, it was a week long hobnobbing with CEOs, CFOs and business executives from other companies that would extend to a few weeks. He was always left by himself inside the private cabanas, presidential suites or a room in a castle somewhere in Asia, with nothing to do but wait and try to get a little bit of attention from his parents. 

“It’s just another birthday, mom.”

“Eighteen, that’s a big deal Ian. There needs to be another celebration.” Elena laced her hand to her son’s, “A belated birthday party to commemorate you being an adult and also a send off party for college, no?”

With a slight smile he replied, “I don’t need another party, mom.” 

“Nonsense, another shindig won’t hurt anybody. In fact, I can invite the Schwarzman’s to the party so you can finally spend some time with Olivia,” his mother said matter of factly.

Ian clenched his jawline, his eyes flickering to his and her mother’s hands. She had been thumbing his knuckles, her fingers making circular motions on the surface of his hand. His mother may have felt his apprehension at the idea of the party, or maybe she thought he was excited by the knowledge that he would once again see the stepdaughter of one of the most powerful men of New York City.

It has been a long time coming. Two years, he had known of this arrangement. He knew another meeting would come sooner than later. Ian just thought that maybe, he could suspend it a little bit more, get a breather before this plan came to fruition. Stephen Schwarzman had been a long time friend of the family, and naturally, in the few times he had attended the ‘family trips’, he would come across Olivia. In passing they would greet each other, make pleasantries when necessary. 

_Olivia Shwarzman was a couple years older than him, and had just been accepted at Yale when he first became aware of the details of their impending engagement. She was the step daughter of Stephen Shwarzman, to his second wife, Christine Hearst. Ian was about to turn sixteen when he first met her, barely knowing himself what he was. He was called to come to the trip, on an island off the south of France. His grandfather’s company had invited several investors and their families to take a vacation with them for a week or two. Ian was asked to mingle with the other kids, make friends if he could. Johnson knocked on his room one afternoon, when he was busy reading a travelling book he had just purchased on the island. He was told to follow him and that his father was asking for his presence. They walked in silence, passing small cabanas along the way._

_At the end of the island, there was a small hill, where a large more elaborate cabana sat atop of it. When they reached the entryway, Johnson told him he would be waiting outside if he needed somebody to come with him when he decided on going back to his room. Ian nodded and proceeded to go inside the room._

_At the center of the cabana was a large brown baxton accent table, on each side of it were two sets of long, beige colored cushioned chairs, there were several wishbone chairs arranged in a circular fashion, probably intended that way for people to face each other, make interactions, have intimate conversations. Most of the people in the room were casually talking, eating their canapes, a few had drinks in their hands. Ian saw his mother seated at the chair beside the long chair, his father beside her talking to a young woman. She motioned for him to come forward, her eyes not leaving his face. One by one, Ian was introduced to the people in the room, like he was being presented as a gift in front of his grandfather’s business associates. The young lady beside his father was the last person he was made to be acquainted to. Her name was Olivia._

_She was seated beside her father, her long blonde hair falling in soft layers around small shoulders. She had pastel white skin which made her beautiful plump pink lips stand out, and hazel brown eyes. Her eyes sparkled, the light in the room coming from the rays of the sun, making them look like they were twinkling. Olivia had worn a floral dress that barely reached her knees, a pair of wedged brown sandals adorning her delicate feet. Ian guessed she may be five foot five inches tall, maybe an inch more. He admitted that when he first saw her, he thought she was an actress. She had a natural glow around her, like if you were to take a photo of her she wouldn't possibly have any bad angles. He remembered fumbling to shake her hand when his mother asked him to formally introduce himself to her._

_“Hello, I’m uhm… Ian, Ian Gallagher.” He shyly said to her as he shook her hand._

_“Hi.” She shook his hand briefly with her well manicured hand. Ian noticed her skin was soft and dewy like a baby’s. “Olivia.” giving him a warm smile, not losing eye contact. “I’ve heard we are to be married someday.”_

_“Excuse me?” Ian exclaimed, his mind blanking as he continued to stare at Olivia’s bright hazel eyes. She was still holding his hand while he desperately chased his father’s eyes who was speaking with another man in the room._

_Ian dropped Olivia’s hand, said his apologies before turning to his father who looked at him stoically. He was expecting something, some sort of emotion or probably an explanation of this new information. Ernie Gallagher remained unperturbed, his mouth remained an uncharacteristic grim line on his face. His father looked at him for a few seconds, his stare boring heat like laser beams on his face._

_As if it was an afterthought, his father suddenly stood up from the lounge chair and clapped him on the shoulder, “Go sit with your fiancè Olivia, Ian. Better to know each other now than later.” then left him standing dumbstruck and confused of what had just happened. Ian saw his father go to a group of men and women in the other cabana, his assistants following him like ant soldiers._

_Almost robotically, he sat in the space beside Olivia, too slow to be considered normal, as though his body was unwilling to move, to function. There were sounds around him, like birds chirping incessantly in his ears. Ian just then noticed that Olivia was talking, all animated as if she was retelling some tale that she thought Ian would be interested in. Perhaps it was the shock, or the nonchalant way of how this news was told to him, that Ian began to shut down, his mind unwilling to talk anymore. And everything that had transpired that day became a blur to him. But what was clearly said, was he was to marry somebody he didn’t know. Somebody who his family deemed fit for him, for the family name, and not because he chose this woman or even loved her. This decision was stolen from him at fifteen years old, when he didn’t even know what it felt like to love, to find love, to lose it, to get it back again, to be with somebody who he could be fully unrestrained with. All the certain uncertainties of having a relationship had been stolen from him in that moment._

_As he waited for his mind to come back, to fully comprehend what fate awaited him, he clung to the last of his remaining resolve. Ian had to take care of himself the only way that he could…..he hoped. He hoped that one day, the greatest of love would find him and take this away from him. His heart beat for that unknown love, that person who could probably save him, stay with him. But up until then, until he finally found this love, he would remain as it was planned, submitting to this arrangement._

_Ian wished, hoped that this person would find him sooner rather than later._

**  
  
**

“You can invite your friends to the party, Ian. We can make a guest list together before I have a talk with the manager of Starr.” Elena stood up from the sofa, taking her empty glass with her. “A week before you leave for Yale, you think that would be alright?” She walked to the kitchen, got the bottle of wine and poured the ruby red liquid into her glass. 

Ian traced his hand to the outline of his phone in his pocket. It was only a few minutes ago that he had in his arms around the man he felt unrestrained with, almost unsteady with happiness. He needed to call him, to make his brain stand still. Ian wants Mickey to distract him from the noise, to maybe give him comfort, to tell him everything would be okay. _That they were okay._ Ian needed to feel it again, to see the genuine smile, hear the real laugh, the warmth that he only found in Mickey, that he thought he had lost. He was feeling the sadness enveloping him, and he couldn't… he wanted to find his reason to smile again, maybe see the sunshine, that feeling of joy from his recent memories. He felt himself shaking, his breathing coming out fast and shallow. There was an ache in his chest, and Ian doesn’t know how to remedy it. _He needed... he wanted..._

“Ian?” Elena called out to her son. When she didn’t hear a response from him, she went back to the living room with the glass of wine in her hand, finding the room empty, devoid of her son. She then heard the loud slam of the door. 

“Ian!”

_________

  
  


It was quarter past one in the morning, and Mickey slowly found himself leaning into drowsiness. His limbs began to go limp, eyelids finally slipping closed. He had waited for Ian to call for a few minutes but thought since his parents were in town, he might not get to do that tonight. Mickey knew that maybe later in the morning, when both of them had rested, Ian would call him. Even so, when he was brushing his teeth, or was washing his face, getting undressed down to his boxers, he still had his phone with him, just in case Ian called or texted him, so he could still talk to him, maybe wish him good night.

He felt his eyes fluttering, body fully relaxing, Mickey was slowly succumbing to sleep. A few minutes later, a loud ringing jolted him awake, his mind a tangled mess of confusion as to where the sound was coming from. He saw the light on his phone flickering, the sound of Gary Lightbody’s voice singing _Chasing Cars_ spreading through his quiet room. 

“Hello?” he hoarsely said.

“Mickey.”

“Hey… hey, Ian. Wasn't expecting you to call.”

“I needed to hear your voice.”

“Is something wrong?”

Ian pressed the pads of his fingertips onto his eyes, trying to get that persistent throbbing to go away. It sucked, everything sucked, Ian thought. He had a few more years, maybe four years at the most. Some things were different now. He’d only just met Mickey, and... it wasn’t fair. They should've met years ago, when things in his life were simpler. He should’ve had that chance of meeting him somewhere, had the time to spend getting knowing him, making him laugh, seeing him cry, having him wipe those tears away, going on dates, hugging him, eating breakfast together, waking up with him, give him a good morning or a good night kiss… just, kissing him. Kissing him until their lips went numb, until they were breathing the same air, until their mouths could only taste each other, his lips on every surface of Mickey’s body, tasting him, devouring him, until their kisses intoxicated him, engulfed him, until the world stopped in its axis and all Ian knew was Mickey. 

There was a lot wrong here, and he didn’t know what to do.

“I wanna hear you talk, Mickey. Please, just say anything.”

“Okay, yeah.” 

Mickey started telling him of what he’d done when Ian dropped him off, how he had to rush to go up the stairs to his floor, how it was so hot inside his apartment when he got in that he had to hurriedly open up a window to let the breeze in, or when he brushed his teeth, washed his face and took off his clothes while still holding his phone, making sure he didn’t missed a call or text from Ian.

“You were waiting for my text? That’s… sweet.”

“Well, you said you were going to message me, and uhm... wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I am now.” 

Ian smiled softly. Through the phone, he could tell Mickey was worried about him and wanted to make him feel okay. He knew in the moment he started feeling the dread creeping into his system, he had to hear the only voice that could make him feel serenity, could disturb the underlying sadness in his heart. Ian listened to Mickey’s calm breathing on the phone, soft inhale and exhale, in and out, and it was making him feel at ease, even with just those sounds. Even when there seemed to be a lull in the conversation, he could feel the warmth rising again, enticing every molecule in his body to yield and let the heat in. He wanted to indulge himself with it, to not be in a hurry, to let the sweet air linger. Just a little bit more. 

“I’m glad” Mickey’s lips curled upward, his mind replaying the memory of the evening. “I had a really good time tonight, in case I forgot to tell you.”

“I wanna see you again.” Ian said abruptly. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

“We have all the time, Ian. We can see each other anytime.”

“No, I need… I want to see you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Okay, alright. Sure.” 

“Wear something nice.”

“Excuse me? Is there something wrong with the way I dress, man?” Mickey said over him, not even hiding how affronted he felt.

“No, uhm… I didn’t mean it that way.” Ian blurted out, not even realizing he just inadvertently insulted the way Mickey dressed. Well, Ian thought, if he really had to make some sort of suggestion on Mickey’s choice of outfits, he would forever ask Mickey to dress in some fabric that would adhere to his body tightly, like maybe, if he was lucky, he would see every dent, every mold, every bulge in Mickey’s tight body. His daydreaming suddenly ended when he realized Mickey had just asked him something. 

“You taking me to a wedding, Ian? Cause I can’t possibly rent a tux at this hour.”

“No, not a wedding. It’s a… we need to dress fancier.”

“Define fancy?”

“Like uhm, a button up, maybe a coat too?”

“Does it require a tie, cause I don’t have a tie, bro.”

“No, a tie won’t be necessary.”

“How about shoes. Can I wear my boots? That’s the only thing I have here.”

Ian heard ruffling, like Mickey had gotten up from his bed. There was an identifiable sound of doors opening and closing, maybe a cabinet, no, like a closet. He heard Mickey huffing, like he was trying to find something.

“Okay, shit. Alright, I got these dress shoes that I’ve got for Brian’s graduation.”

“Brian?”

“Yeah, Joe’s son. He and I are…”

Ian didn’t want to know, “Yeah, alright. Maybe not that. I think your boots will do. You’ve got really nice feet.” _The fuck did he just say?_

“What?” A small gasp left Mickey’s lips.

“No I meant, you look like you have really nice, dainty feet.”

“You saying I have small feet?” Mickey blurted out.

“Well they’re certainly not big, Mick.” Ian uttered, a grin slowly forming on his lips. 

“Fuck you and your anomalously large feet, man.” Mickey spat out, with no amount of fury in his faux wrath. 

“You know what they say about large feet, Mickey. Large feet, large…” He bit his lip to stop him from saying it, but a noise burst out from his lips, until he was giggling, almost chortling. He continued, smirking as he said, “Shoes. Large feet, large shoes.”

“I hate you.” Mickey was laughing at how ridiculous their conversation is. He was pleased he made Ian laugh, that giggle was like a hug to him. Like he could tell Ian’s mood had changed. 

“So, where are you taking me?” 

Ian thought of making it a surprise, but he had to know if he was the first person to take Mickey out and experience it. He felt his lips stretch wider into a gaping grin. Ian hummed, trying to suspend the moment.

He took a second or two before asking, “Have you ever watched a play, Mickey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know this chapter is a bit... sad. but we have to go there, right? we have to know why ian was trying to escape his life. again, my original idea was sort of more elaborated than this, darker maybe? but yeah, wanted to make it lighter, coz I think I need to explore ian's relationship more with his parents, and how mickey may contribute to some changes in his life.
> 
> *** btw, ian have different parents, it's not monica or frank. and also in the fic, he's an only child, just in case you guys were getting confused about the names.  
> *** thanks for staying, for continually reading my fic. I appreciate your comments, I love reading them.  
> *** next chapter will be another date, yahoo!!!


	13. Falling Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> play date . dinner date. mickey's back story. a bit of something something under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know you,  
> but I want you,  
> all the more for that.  
> words fall through me,  
> and always fool me,  
> and I can't react.
> 
> \- Falling Slowly by Marketa Irglova

September 2, 2006

9:12 AM

  
  


“Johnson, can you get this to Manuel.” Elena handed her son’s bodyguard a manila envelope containing the list of the guests for the party, her eyes not leaving the screen of her Blackberry. “He’ll be waiting for you at the entrance of the restaurant and I believe… he will be giving you an envelope as well. Tell him,” she continued tapping on the buttons of her phone, her thumbs flying, constructing one message after another, “that I will be waiting for his email about the menu. I want to make sure there are options other than a filet mignon. God knows that’s the only thing they think would look deliciously expensive.”

Ian sat across from his mother, an array of food in front of them. He had just ordered room service a few minutes ago, and this morning he particularly wanted banana pancakes, with melted Nutella and a tall glass of orange juice. For some reason, the need for something sweet and rich was appealing to Ian as of late. Not that he had felt that need because his parents decided on spending time with him for some reason, at the time when he would rather be alone and be with someone else. His father had ordered something generic, like black coffee and two toasts with butter. His mom, a bottle of sparkling water and a fruit plate. 

It had been very awkward the whole day yesterday and today, all of them just quietly maneuvering through the day as if on auto pilot. The only thing that his parents seemed to be excited about or have some sort of interest in was his belated birthday celebration and the so-called ‘sending away’ party.

For a few hours yesterday, the three of them were nestled in one of the rooms of the suite. His father had decided it to be the makeshift office for the time being, since it appeared to be the only room that had good natural lighting and had all the furnishings of a probable library or a study. Ernie Gallagher was seated on a deep red leather wingback chair behind a two-toned cherry and black Needham executive desk that was placed in the center of the room. Two dark brown leather club chairs, where Ian and his mother were sitting, ran perpendicular to the large center table. In front of him, lay several sheets of paper where the drafts of the party were written neatly in his mother’s handwriting. On it were the probable itinerary of the event, the list of names of the people that they needed to invite, vendors that his mom would be calling to book, sample menus, dress code, theme, all that his parents deemed necessary for a great party. 

Half past the last hour of their impromptu meeting, his father made a conference call with his assistants to come early in the morning the following day so he could give them their specific tasks for the week leading up to the day of the party. It took them four hours for his father to finally say that they could make other arrangements at another time if need be, since it had been running late and he wanted to grab dinner somewhere in the upper east side. 

Ian, for some unknown reason, had developed a nagging headache in the span of the past twenty six hours since he’d been around his parents. And the couple of Tylenols he just took an hour ago we’re not working. He brought his right hand to his forehead, massaging it from his glabella to the temple, making sure to put a bit more pressure as his thumb and ring fingers reached those spots. 

He was nibbling on his food when he heard his mother say something else to Johnson, “After that, can you tell Peter to drive us to Brookefield. I would like to get a suit for Ian. Mister Gallagher will be staying here until we come back.”

“Mom, is it okay if I can maybe go somewhere after we get the suit? I sort of have plans later.”

“Plans? What can you possibly be doing on a Sunday afternoon?” 

“I, uhm…I’ll be watching a show later.”

“Where?”

“It’s at Central Park, a friend of mine invited me to watch his show.”

“Do I know him? Maybe we can come along with you later if your father…”

“Elena,” his father cut his mother’s rambling, “let your son have the whole night. I have an early meeting tomorrow, and I would rather stay in.” His father typed something on his laptop, then peered at Ian from the side of the screen, “Will you be joining us for dinner, Ian?”

“No, dad. I’ll probably just take a quick shower once we come back, then go to the park.”

Johnson stood motionless at the foot of the table, clearing his throat before saying, “Will that be all, Mrs. Gallagher?”

“Oh yes, Johnson. That will be all.” Elena looked at Johnson momentarily then curtly smiled before adding, “But please don’t forget to ask Manuel about the list.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded at them and then turned his back before heading to the front door.

Ian stood up shortly, walking quickly trying to catch Johnson.

“Hey, Johnson.”

“Yes sir?”

“Uhm, can I possibly look at the list. I think I may have forgotten to put somebody on.”

As Johnson gave him the unsealed manila envelope, Ian pulled out a pen from his pocket. He thought about it for a few seconds, then brought out the paper, writing a name at the end of the list.

_Mikhailo Milkovich and plus one_

__________

  
  


September 1, 2006

10:48 AM

  
  


Mickey woke up with three texts from Ian saying he hoped he was having a good morning, a picture of what he was having for breakfast, and a ***\\(^o^)/*** . 

_Huh? Was Ian watching something on TV, like a cheerleading competition? are those pom poms in his hands?_

He of course replied after an hour, when Ian had originally sent it with a simple good morning to you too and a **:)** in the end. 

The whole day yesterday, he was thinking of asking Brian what to wear for his date. Not that Ian ever mentioned what exactly they were going to watch, but he figured, since he had to dress up, maybe they’d be seeing a Broadway show rather than a play. Actually, he never thought for once in his life he would ever go see one, since every time he heard the word Broadway, he thought there would be orchestra music, singing, dancing, and probably a bit of crying. It’s not that he was never into that, it’s more that he didn’t want to waste money. He thought, why would he cough out one hundred to two hundred dollars for a show that he could easily download in Torrent. But then again, there were times when he was walking around Times square, seeing the marquees and the bright lights, he’d fantasize of maybe one day, if he had enough money to spare, he would like to see at least one show, maybe Wicked. Cause he honestly didn’t mind seeing good and bad witches, or animals singing. Yeah, he thought, he would really enjoy that.

By mid afternoon, Mickey found himself obsessively googling the shows that were currently playing on Broadway, their plots, the characters in every show and even the songs that were in them. Before he knew it, it was already night time and he still hadn’t received a text or call from Ian since earlier that morning. 

Mickey checked his phone and debated on whether he should send a text to Ian, just to know what was up with him. But he was never the initiator of the messaging or the nightly checkups, it was always Ian who would send him a text first. And for the entire day, not since he last messaged him this morning, he seemed to have forgotten to do that. And things were not sitting right with Mickey, he was getting worried for some reason. He decided on sending Ian a short text, a simple one, just so he knew he was thinking of him. 

“Hey.” 

_________

  
  


Amid the monochromatic hue of the sky, the moon shone the brightest that night. Its glow bathed the sky with silver beams diffusing through the busy city, white speckled lights glittering as they bounced to every surface it touched. Ian was looking out from his bedroom window, his eyes following each path, hoping that the blackness of the night would not swallow him whole, that at least one pale beam of silver light would touch him, illuminate him from within, to stir a rippled effect of brightness within himself. It was as if the moonlight was his only friend tonight, his only companion that would get him out of this melancholic state, to not remain in the shadows, to maybe not see the world so grey. 

Yesterday was the happiest he’d been in weeks, months, years even. No one had ever made him feel that way, like there was some sort of explosion of emotions in the tiny fraction of time he was with Mickey. It would forever be etched in his mind, the memories of having to finally taste Mickey, feel his warmth, the urgency to touch, the fervor in the way they explored each other’s mouths, the way they breathed in synchrony, the delicious sounds of them. These memories would sit in the synapses of his brain, flashing each moment of happiness within him. 

Ian longed for that at the moment, that happy feeling that could sustain him tonight, reminding him that there may be another person out there who was missing this feeling. That maybe Mickey was missing Ian too.

_Hey_

It took one word and the memory came rushing back to him, resetting his mood, challenging the loss, the longing into something more worthwhile, more joyful. Ian began to smile, the moonlight finally reaching him, enveloping his body with the sense of steadiness, of soft and lingering serenity. 

Ian called Mickey. 

“Hi.” Ian said slowly, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. He kept staring outside his window, and noticed the rays of light from the moon began cascading slowly, pale silvery light seeping to every crevice of the desolate city. 

“Hey.” Mickey said, smiling. He wasn’t expecting a call from Ian. He didn’t intend to disrupt anything. Mickey knew Ian was spending some time with his parents, maybe having dinner somewhere in the metropolis, he might have even been at a party with their rich friends. It may have been the silence that urged him to send that message to Ian. Because each minute, every hour that passed, his thoughts were consuming him, wondering if everything was okay with Ian. If the other boy wanted him, needed him, was thinking of him. 

“Did you go biking today? Wasn’t sure if you went out or... ”

“No, I was just here.” Mickey said quickly, “I sort of woke up late.”

“Had a good night's sleep?” Ian said softly.

“Uhm, yeah. You could say that.” Mickey whispered, chuckling. “My hips and thighs are aching though.” 

“Served you right, then.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You were torturing me last night, asshole.”

“Was I?” Mickey hummed lowly, “We were just dancing, man.”

“I don’t even want to know how you learned to do that with your fucking hips, Mickey.” Ian moved away from the window, walking slowly towards his bed. “But fuck it,” he lay on his back, his head hitting the cushion with a thud, “that was just so damn hot.”

“Jesus, Ian.”

“Mmmmmmm.” Ian smiled with his lips shut. He could already imagine Mickey right now, probably biting his lips, pink rosy glow rising on the apples of his cheeks. Ian wanted to see him, wanted to touch that warmth on his skin. 

“Stop it.” Mickey said, his voice breathy.

“God,” Ian chuckled softly, his tongue running along inside his lower lip. ”you don’t even wanna know how many nights I’ve fantasized about kissing you.”

“Ian.” Mickey rasped. “What are you doing?”

“Mickey.” Ian whispered. “Tell me something.”

“Something.” Mickey whispered, laughing softly.

“What are you wearing?”

“I can’t believe you're asking me this.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Fuck, you’re naked huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Ian.”

He shut his eyes, the memories of last night flooding back to him. The heated looks. Mickey’s bright cerulean eyes. His plump lips. To have finally kissed them. To taste him. How Mickey’s smell intoxicated him. The way he tightly wound his arms around Mickey. To feel his warm breath. To touch him. The need to be close, so very close that he could hardly breathe. How desperately he wanted to have that again so goddamn much it was beginning to hurt. 

“Please.” Ian sighed, “I need to see you.”

“Ian.”

“Tomorrow, Mick. Please see me tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah... alright, sure.” Mickey said, “I’m… actually shitting my pants over what to wear tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me you were googling the whole day for outfits, Mickey.” Ian asked with a breathy laugh.

“Look man, this ass can only get me so far.”

“Jesus, don’t remind me.” He groaned, a small smile swarming Ian’s face, “But you were totally googling what to wear, huh?”

“What else am I supposed to do, man.” Mickey huffed, “I kept seeing to wear a suit, or a black tie. Does that mean a tuxedo?”

“Fuck, you’re so cute, you know that?”

“Tell me I’m cute when you see me wearing sweatpants on our date tomorrow.”

“I don’t even care what you’re wearing on our date tomorrow, Mick.”

“Yeah, whatever man.”

“A simple button up and maybe if you have dress pants? That'll work.”

“Like khakis right?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Fuck, you’re making me nervous, Ian.”

“Hey,” Ian pushed himself up, his head resting snuggly on his soft pillows, crossing his feet, “You’ll be fine. It’s just us, Mick.”

“I’ll be fine when you’re fine.” Mickey said softly. He heard Ian puffing deep breaths at the other end of the line. It took him a few seconds before he continued, “You doing good, right?” 

“I’ll be better tomorrow once I see you.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

Mickey cradled his phone in his hand, the tips of his ears burning hot. He had been sitting on the floor for hours now, his laptop propped on top of his thighs. The screen froze on the Wikipedia page for an hour. It was never his intention to do this, but his curiosity has been bugging him since he’d found out Ian’s real name. In the span of sixty minutes, he was able to know Ian’s birthday, age, where he was born, his family, the names of his parents, who they are, his grandfather, his grandfather's company, his net worth. But one detail had struck Mickey the most, the thing about his personal life. It said that Ian has been engaged to Olivia Schwarzman since 2004. 

_Engaged to_ _Olivia Schwarzman_. 

He fidgeted on the hems of his worn out shirt, his fingers touching the warm skin of his stomach. His fingers began to tingle, tiny bumps forming from the skin at the back of his hand up to his forearms. Mickey rested his head at the edge of his bed, placed the neglected laptop on the floor, then crossed his outstretched legs on top of the other. He tried to get his body to focus on breathing, to remain calm and let the noise of the world pass by. There were so many questions running through his mind at the moment, questions that may somehow make him understand what they were doing right now. He wanted to clear his thoughts, and not drive himself to impulses that would disrupt something that might have been nothing to begin with. All he knew was that Ian made him scared, made him anxious of what was to come. He didn’t know if he was ready for that, ready for the fall. Cause there was a space in his heart that was getting much harder to ignore, and the fight in him to fill that void was getting weaker. And Mickey was goddamn afraid.

“What are you thinking, Mickey?”

“What do you mean?”

“You… were quiet all of a sudden.”

“I was just thinking, there’s so much more we need to know about each other, and I feel,” Mickey paused, dragging out the words before continuing, “I think I… you need to know stuff about me that only a few people know about.”

Ian cleared his throat, “You don’t need to tell me anything.”

“I think I should… and I will. But I want to make sure we are being truly honest with each other.” Mickey’s shoulder began to lean further on the edge of the bed, his head laying fully on the mattress. “I guess, I want to make sure I can trust you.”

“You can ask me anything.” Ian let out a breath, his chest ballooning as he let the air out from his lungs. “I won’t hide anything from you.”

There was a persistent pulsing in Mickey’s body, starting from his chest up to his temples. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “This is… we need to be talking about this when we are face to face. Not exactly an appropriate conversation at nine-forty-eight in the evening, Ian.”

“Fuck, if it were any other day, Mickey, I would be at your door right now, begging for you to let me in.”

“When did I ever make you beg for something, mister Gallagher?”

“Shit, for a moment there, I thought I was hearing my dad’s secretary calling him for his next meeting.”

“So I can’t call you mister Gallagher? I hear Johnson and Peter call you that all the time.”

“Not if you work for me, Milkovich.”

“Fuck it, the way you said Milkovich, makes me wanna grab a pen and start jotting down orders from you.” 

“Why do I suddenly have this mental image of you in a pencil skirt, with glasses and a clipboard on your hands in an office?” 

“You been watching Mad Men, firecrotch?”

They started laughing, the tension of the earlier conversation began dissipating. Mickey started smiling, enough to enjoy the semblance of normalcy between him and Ian. They stayed quiet for a bit, listening to each other breathing, every intake of air and soft exhales making the air around them lighter, warmer. 

Mickey’s voice tumbled out softly, “So tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Ian took a deep breath, “You ready, Milkovich?”

“Damn right, Gallagher.”

_________

  
  


Ian was running late. His shopping escapade with his mom ran longer than was expected. They were supposed to be back in the hotel by four in the afternoon, enough time for him to shower, shave, choose his clothes, fix his hair, fucking maybe take some edge off and wank leisurely while under the shower, as warm water cascaded down his body. But his mom insisted they have an early dinner at Seamore’s and before he knew it, it was getting closer to five and he was feeling a mild panic fluttering in his stomach. Ian struggled to ask his mother if they could hurry up since he didn’t want to be late for the show. They arrived at the hotel a little after five, and everything was a flurry after that. 

He found himself standing in front of a full length mirror inside his bedroom at five-fifty-six in the evening, in an off-white oxford shirt under a brown hounds tooth lambswool sports coat. His eyes wandered to the length of him, making sure there were no wrinkles in the dark grey extra slim dress pants he was wearing. Ian ran a hand through his carefully styled hair and then straightened the suit jacket on his shoulders. He inhaled through his nose and slowly breathed out, repeating it several times with a hand on his solar plexus, taking deep, measured breaths to calm himself. At five minutes after six, he grabbed his phone and texted Mickey that he’d be at his building in fifteen minutes and he should wait for him. 

At six-twenty-two, Ian found himself standing in front of Mickey’s door, right hand extended, his knuckles almost brushing the surface. He stretched his hand, flattened it for a second on the door, took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

He was about to do another round of knocking when Mickey opened the door, a strangled noise came out of his mouth at the sight of him, his hand stilted mid-air.

“Holy fuck.”

Mickey had called Brian a few hours ago, his mind in a soft panic that grew and grew the closer it got to the time Ian was due to pick him up. He was waiting for it to fade, to let his thoughts fiddle away and not succumb into a vortex of anxiety and stupidity. Brian eased his worries away, when he brought some of his clothes to his apartment more than an hour ago, telling him to try on some of his button ups and blazers and figure out which color and style suited him. They both agreed on a long dark grey wool blend overcoat, a light blue long sleeved chambray shirt tucked inside a fitted chocolate brown trousers, and his own brown Brogue boots. Mickey was glad he had purchased these boots for Brian’s graduation a few months ago and even with the ridiculous price that he had to pay for it, it seemed smart now that he had decided to splurge on it. 

Mickey’s lips twitched, a smile slowly forming on his face. He blinked and pursed his lips.

“What?” 

Ian’s breath got caught in his throat as Mickey’s small and smoldering sight stood in the doorway. He was… he is just about perfect. Ian knew that Mickey would probably dress up in something nice, something elemental. But this, everything about his outfit, the way he had styled his hair, the colors of every fabric enveloping Mickey’s body, the styling was right out of a magazine. Something hot and low started to creep from his belly up to his face, and Ian began to feel his face flush as blood rushed past his ears.

“It’s you.”

“It is I.”

“How… where… when…?” he was babbling, Ian was shocked beyond belief. Just last night they were talking about how Mickey was shitting his pants over what to wear tonight, but right now, Ian began to feel that he was the one under dressed, that he never actually planned for hours what to wear.

“Okay, Ian. Enough of your poetry. We’re gonna be late.”

Ian tried to speak coherently, but his brain was deliberately slow at the moment and all he could say was, “Shit. Fuck. Mickey.” 

“What the fuck is happening to you?” Mickey laughed and shrugged, turning in a small circle as he pulled his door closed. “C’mon, Gallagher.” glancing up at Ian, “Don’t want to be late for the show.” 

_________

  
  
  


At the center of the room, Mickey saw a white pleated grand curtain blanketing the stage, which appeared to be deep, almost sloped gently away from the audience. There were three columns of fixed seats that ran to three sides of the stage, the middle column, which faced the stage directly, was where Ian and Mickey were walking to. Ian stopped for a moment, checking the tickets in his hand, then pulled Mickey almost to the front of the stage. They were both counting the rows, one by one, making sure they were at the right seat number. The ticket said floor 2 row 3, seat numbers 10 and 11, and when they had finally found it, Mickey found himself looking directly at the stage, right smack in the center. He slowly took his seat, still holding Ian’s hand as if he was afraid that if he let go he might start to wander around and eventually get lost. Ian gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand, placing their joined hands on his lap. Mickey leaned back, hugged his folded coat to his chest and looked around. 

“Wow.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know it was going to be this big.” Mickey’s leg began to bounce, his eyes wandering thoughtfully. “Can you tell me what this show is about?”

“Once?”

“Yeah, is it like Romeo and Juliet, like Shakespeare and shit?”

“Well, first off, you’re being cute again,” Ian kissed the back of Mickey’s hand and placed it back on his lap, “not Shakespeare, but I’m glad you know about Romeo and Juliet. It’s about a young male musician who was cheated on by his long time girlfriend, and starts playing his original songs on the streets…”

“Like that naked cowboy dude in Times Square?”

“He’s not exactly naked though, Mick. But yeah, like a street performer.” Ian grinned then continued, “he meets another musician, a girl who plays decent piano, they form some sort of artistic friendship, and they write songs together about their grief, loneliness and love.”

“So not a love story then?”

“Not quite, there’s love between them, yeah, but a lot of things are going against them, and well…they just have to keep everything about the music and let whatever they have for each other stay as it is.”

“That sounds so tragic, Gallagher.”

“Maybe so, but at least they loved, you know? Experienced love in spite of their circumstances.”

The lights began to dim and Mickey pulled out the Playbill from his jacket. He squinted his eyes and tried to read off the names of the actors. “Are any of these actors in movies, Ian?”

“Let me see,” Ian scooted closer to Mickey’s side and peeked at his Playbill, “Cristin Milioti has been in How I met your Mother,” Mickey then handed the booklet to Ian, “and I think I’ve seen David Patrick Kelly in The Longest Yard with Adam Sandler.” Ian said, as he gave the booklet back to Mickey.

“No shit.” Mickey whispered to himself. He ran his clammy hands over his face, as he tossed back his head and let out a shaky but calming breath, “Wow”, he muttered. 

Ian smiled and leaned across Mickey’s arm rest and placed a kiss on the other boy’s temples. “Excited?”

Mickey tilted his head, giving Ian a lopsided smile, “Absolutely.”

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  


One hour and forty seven minutes later and Mickey was a mess, a total mess. He’d cried a total of three times during the show. Not ugly cry, like he was sobbing and wailing like an infant, but he found tears rolling down his face that made the collars of his shirt wet. For some reason, even if he wiped them all with the tips of his fingers, they continued to fall to their own accord, like Mickey just lost control of his emotions. Ian handed him his handkerchief when he noticed him sniffing, patting the back of his hand gently to soothe him. 

In the first act, when the actor who played the Guy started strumming his guitar to _Falling Slowly_ , was where his eyes began to start welling up. He even faked a hiccup, trying to conceal his crying. But then, tiny droplets of moisture started streaming down his face and he felt overwhelmed, embarrassed that he couldn't even hold it until the second act. Mickey felt Ian’s hand drawing circles over his own, brushing his knuckles ever so gently, trying to ground him, calm him. By _Say It to Me Now_ , he was biting his lip hard, willing them to stop trembling. He darted his eyes over to Ian, then cast them down quickly, suddenly shy that his emotions were so exposed and he didn't want.. he couldn’t let Ian see how vulnerable he looked. 

“C’mere.” Ian whispered, untangling his hand from his and sliding it to his right shoulder, pulling Mickey for a side hug. “It’s okay, Mick.”

He sniffed, cleared his throat, his voice small and shaky, “I’m sorry.”

“Sshh, it’s okay. I know it gets too much sometimes.”

They stayed like that, Ian’s hand around Mickey’s shoulders, feeling his warmth, his smell. Whenever he noticed Mickey tensing, he squeezed his arm a fraction tighter, until he could feel him breathing slowly, his body melting until every muscle relaxed, his body sinking into his outstretched arms. Mickey rested his head on Ian’s shoulder as they watched the whole ensemble sing _Gold._

Almost at the end of the song, Mickey lifted his chin to look at Ian, trying to meet his gaze. Ian moved his eyes away from the stage and looked sideways at Mickey. And Ian was struck with some sort of charm, and he couldn’t... how could he look away. It was Mickey’s eyes. They were just… they were so impossibly blue in the darkened room. They were like ice, like small translucent blue orbs of crystals. _Stunning_. Mickey smiled at him, his closed lips forming a smooth curve, one side higher than the other, like he was trying to suppress it, but couldn't contain the happiness he was feeling. Ian felt almost breathless. There was a nagging ache in his belly, like that warm bubbly feeling you have when you’re intoxicated, starting from your stomach up to your chest, and it was consuming him. Ian blinked, dropping his eyes to Mickey’s lips. He drew a shuddering breath, took a quick glance at Mickey’s eyes once again, trying to read his thoughts. Mickey nudged him and jutted his chin to the stage.

“The show’s right there, asshole.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, tell that to me again later, Gallagher.”

  
  


_________

  
  
  


Hundreds of film, television and theater actors’ caricatures hung over the walls, almost covering the entirety of the restaurant. Mickey was sitting below Antonio Banderas and Liza Minelli’s signed pictures, their beautiful faces seemed to be looking down on him, telling him to eat his expensive meal. Ian naturally ordered for them, a very energetic waitress placed a plate in front of him just a few seconds ago announcing their meals for the night. 

“That’s _cannelloni au gratin,_ Mick. It’s their specialty.” 

“And what is that?” Mickey wrinkled his nose, as though he was repulsed with Ian’s food or something. 

“It’s _seared scallops over green pea puree risotto_.”

“Alright.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Mickey.” Ian started chuckling, pursing his lips and trying not to laugh at Mickey’s pouting face. “I’ll let you try it, you know.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Mick.” He bit his lip, “I promise, it’s not that bad.”

Mickey brought his face close to his plate, “I don’t even know what you ordered for me.” he muttered, glancing up to look at Ian. “This is pasta right?”

“Yeah, you’ll love it, I swear. If you don’t we’ll get ice cream later, okay?” 

He inched his foot closer to Mickey, the tips of his brown wing tipped shoes brushing the medial side of Mickey’s left ankle. Ian hummed low in his throat, relaxing his broad shoulders, his hands placed flatly on his slightly parted thighs. He rubbed the sides of his shoe higher until it reached the muscles of Mickey’s calves. Mickey gulped audibly then started to lean in to the touch. He found himself enjoying the slow sensation of eliciting the blush blooming from Mickey’s cheeks as his ministrations continued. It started from the tips of his ears, gently spreading to his neck, up to his cheeks. Ian hung back, watching how Mickey was fidgeting under his stare, looking around the room, licking his lips, biting the inside of his mouth. Mickey was fucking looking lovely this way, his mouth and cheeks kissed pink, fighting a smile that wanted to break out.

Ian allowed him a few seconds to compose himself, get his bearings together before speaking, “You okay?”

“You do know we are in a crowded restaurant now, right?” He asked, trying to distract himself. Ian kept his rubbing against his leg, the hair from his skin standing up, like they were on high alert.

“And so?”

“Ian, please.” Mickey sighed, “We haven’t even eaten yet.”

“We can eat. Can we not?” Ian asked him, an easy smile on his face.

“Don’t fucking tease me this way, man.” Mickey grumbled, closing his eyes. 

“Mickey.”

“Ian.” Mickey snapped softly.

“Alright, alright, Mickey.” He replied, holding back a smile. Ian then reached for the glass of water in front of him, placing the glass against his lips, not breaking eye contact with his blushing date as he drank from it. 

Mickey groaned and raised his eyebrows, “You’re fucking impossible.” 

Ian snorted, water spewing out from his mouth. They were both giggling, Mickey’s hand reflexively covering his mouth, trying to stop his cackles. When their laughter started fizzling down to shuddering breaths, Mickey bit his lip, locked eyes with Ian and nudged his foot away.

“Okay, firecrotch. Let’s just fucking eat, I’m starving.” Mickey finally said smiling, with no heat in his voice. 

  
  


_________

  
  
  


It was already late in the evening when they finished their dinner. Ian suggested that they should have a quick walk somewhere, maybe somewhere they could talk. As they moved along 44th Street, they passed by Starbucks and got themselves a couple of iced caramel macchiatos, which Mickey claimed were severely overpriced cold coffees that they could have easily gotten for three bucks at the 711. Ian rolled his eyes at that, but not before making a noisy slurp of his lattè in front of Mickey’s face. He pushed Ian’s face away from him playfully then grabbed his arm towards the crowded street. 

At a quarter past ten in the evening, they found themselves in front of Bryant Park. They were walking side by side, their shoulders brushing as their arms swayed unconsciously between them. At the center of the park was a large lawn where numerous benches were haphazardly arranged. They walked to the nearest vacated ones and pushed their chairs closer to each other. 

“This has been a lovely night, Gallagher. Never pegged you as a romantic.”

“Well thank you, Milkovich,” clicking their plastic cups together, “It was my pleasure.”

“I’m going to miss you, you know. These past few weeks have been the happiest I’ve been my whole life.”

Ian glanced at Mickey’s face, noticing the sudden shift in air. He was looking contemplatively now at the groups of people in front of them, eyes unfocused, unnerving. Mickey laughed, hiding his face with his hand, his thumb and index fingers pinching his lips. He huffed a breath when his fingers released his puckered mouth, then licked his lower lip.

“I’m an orphan, and uhm… was raised by a single mom 'til age nine. She passed away to lung cancer, which she managed to hide from me before her body succumbed to the illness. Child services scrambled for months trying to find a relative that I could stay with, but unfortunately, they couldn’t find any.” He drank from the green straw, trying to get some moisture in his mouth. “I was passed from one foster home to another until I decided to run away from my seventh family the day after I turned sixteen.” 

Ian momentarily froze with the information that casually left Mickey’s mouth. He simply stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. The air around them suddenly turned. For some reason, he felt cold, as though there was a storm coming. He placed his cold coffee on the ground and angled his body towards Mickey.

“When I was staying with those families, I wasn’t really treated badly, but I wasn’t treated like one of them, you know? Like I was part of the family. I was always the kid that they forgot to take to school, or make breakfast for, or remember to celebrate their birthdays.” Mickey swallowed, “I had to learn how to take care of myself, be self-sufficient,” his jawline tensed, “I was small for a ten year old, and when you’re poor and you don’t really get to eat normal meals, and you don’t get to buy new clothes, you… become a target for some kids.”

Mickey blew out a quick breath and continued, “I was working by eleven, getting plastic bottles, magazines, newspapers from the trash and selling them for a few bucks, mowing lawns, cleaning the toilets in some stores, selling cigarettes in school.” He huffed a soft laugh, “the only thing I didn’t do is give blow jobs in alley ways, even though I knew it’d draw in a bit more money for me.” Mickey was silent for a moment, then nodded for a beat before he continued, “When I finally was able to save a couple hundred dollars, I got on the first bus trip out of California and never looked back.” 

Ian’s brows furrowed. He shifted in his chair and placed his hand on Mickey’s lap. “I’m glad you never… I mean, what you did then, Mickey. You did that to survive.” Ian lifted his hand, slowly raising it to the back of Mickey’s neck, squeezing the tensed muscles with his thumb and middle finger. Mickey closed his eyes as his head lolled forward at the faint hint of pressure.

“There’s only a few people who know this about me, Ian.” Mickey said weakly, glancing over his shoulder, looking directly at Ian, “And I know… we’ve only just met, but I felt I needed to be honest with you,” a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry for loading this shit on you.”

“You think I would rather exchange recipes with you than hear how brave you are, how strong,” He placed both hands on Mickey’s shoulders, gliding his hands from his neck down to his back, his fingers making gentle circles on his skin, eliciting a soft moan from Mickey, “how much of a survivor you are, Mick. You should be proud of that.” 

“Hmm… you’re pretty good at this, Gallagher.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Ian quickly hooked his index and middle finger on Mickey’s waist, pressing random spots on his sides, making him bark out a laugh.

“You mother fucker!”

Ian lifted Mickey from his chair, pulling him onto his lap. At first he was trying to resist, pushing Ian’s hand away from his waist. Mickey attempted to pull one of Ian’s hands off his waist, but Ian was at an advantage, since he had already wound his arm around the other boy, and hooked his ankle to his right leg. He kept tickling his left side until they were both laughing heartily, their loud roars echoing in the open space.

“Put me down, you fucker!”

“No.”

“I am so going to kill you, you fucking ginger!”

They were hysterically laughing so hard they both fell off the bench and toppled onto the grass. Their bodies rolled, Ian gripping Mickey’s biceps to stop their bodies’ movement. Mickey found his back on the ground while Ian straddled him. The soft blades of the grass tickled Mickey’s neck as their bursts of laughter continued for a few more seconds, until the shaking of their bodies died down. When all that was left of them were just a few huffs and grunts, they found themselves laying on top of each, breathing the same air.

Mickey sucked in a short breath when he felt Ian’s lips on him, his eyes fluttering shut as a soft peck touched his lips. Ian held his face with both hands, kissing him firmly, sucking in his protruding lower lip. He shifted a bit, angling his head sideways, parting his lips and languidly licking on the seam of Ian’s mouth. Ian exhaled a smooth breath and thumbed his chin, pushing it down. Mickey obliged and opened his mouth further, allowing access to his tongue. He pulled the back of Ian’s hair to break the kiss, pecking the corner of his mouth, then smiled.

Mickey smoothed his fingers at the back of Ian’s neck, tilted his head and said, “Are we putting on a show in the middle of the park, Gallagher?”

Ian loosened his grip on Mickey’s face, rolled off and lay beside him, panting heavily. 

They were laying on the grass, their heads tilted toward the sky. The stars shone spectacularly that night, like distant lights dancing, yet fixed in obscure patterns in the dark sky.

“You know, I’ve never done this before.”

“What? Get arrested for public displays of affection?”

“No,” Ian reached for Mickey’s hand, placing their conjoined hand between them, “kissed a guy I really like.” 

“Yeah.”

Ian turned his head to the sound of Mickey’s soft voice, “Huh?”

Mickey smiled to the sky then lifted his head so he could look at Ian, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhmmm, so they went to see Once, and I know the play ran 2012-2019 but man, I really wanted them to see it. The movie, show and the music is just beautiful. I want them to experience that so bad. The restaurant where they had their dinner was at Sardi's which is like an iconic place in NYC and also where they had the ‘talk’ is Bryant Park, which lies in the heart of Manhattan. A really cool place to hang out, coz it's an open space, and you can lay on the ground, sunbathe (if you're into that) and just chill. so nice place for the boys to have a heart to heart talk in the evening, right?
> 
> *** mickey's back story... :( . i wanna give him that depth and experience, you know.. that made him this strong and independent person, and a true survivor. also, he has questions about ian, and obvs they need to be aswered honestly.  
> *** so yeah, they're falling slowly, noh?... teehee  
> *** thanks to all of y'all who stayed and are still reading. i truly lub you all :)  
> *** if anyone is interested, i’m @piyatot09 on twitter. say hi sometimes, ‘kay 🤓


	14. One Day at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you don't always get what you want... or do you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you should, you would, you could always ask. it's that simple.

September 4, 2006

12:27 PM

  
  


“Hey, what are you still doing here?”

“Huh?”

“You waiting for somebody?”

Mickey had checked his phone four times in the last fifteen minutes. No messages, not even a phone call. _Damn._ He was sure he told his friend he’d meet him outside the office at noon, and that he’d be holding a huge ass garment bag with his clothes in it under the heat of the sun, with his bike, on the sidewalk, at exactly twelve in the goddamn afternoon. Well actually, Mickey could have easily gone to the covered bus stop where he could comfortably sit on the bench, have the bag beside him or on his lap, and wait for his friend to arrive. Mickey refused to move now, he would not. He would stay right where he was and wait for his friend, cause he was stubborn like that, and would not allow Brian to say that he didn’t fucking see him. The thing is, he knew Brian. He knew that whenever he drove, he didn’t want to be distracted, didn’t want to have the volume of the radio above ten, didn’t want to have anybody’s feet on his dashboard, didn’t want people in the car chit-chatting where he knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and not give his two cents in, didn’t even want to stop for coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts for Christ’s sake. Brian was supposed to be picking him up at work to grab lunch and get the clothes he’d borrowed from him thirty minutes ago, and Mickey was getting sweaty. Sweaty, sticky and annoyed. 

“Miss T,” he dropped the garment bag from his shoulder to the ground and gave the woman a side hug, ”Yeah, it’s Brian. He was supposed to be here a few minutes ago.”

“I didn’t hear if there’s traffic on the bridge, Mick. He didn’t text you?”

Mickey shrugged and hauled the bag over his bike. 

“You can just text him that you’ll be waiting for him inside, baby. It’s too damn hot outside.” Miss T proceeded to shade him with her purple umbrella, both of them squeezing into the small space.

“Can’t text him, he’s driving.”

“That’s a shame. You want me to wait with you?”

“No, I’m,” he checked his phone, “going to be fine. I’ll give this dumbass a few more minutes and then I’ll just bike to the train.”

“You wanna borrow this?” The older woman nudged his shoulder with her umbrella “I don’t mind, Mickey. The deli is just a short walk from here.”

“No, no. I’m…” His phone buzzed from his pocket and he pulled it out answering it hurriedly.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour now, man.” Miss T tapped him on the back and waved as she walked away. Mickey gave her a small nod and a tight smile.

“Look, Brian, I know you don’t want people calling you while you’re driving, but maybe text me when you’re on your way. Is that too much to ask?”

“Brian?”

“Mickey!”

Mickey looked across the street and saw Brian getting out of his car, waving his gangly arms in the air.

“Get you ass over here, beautiful. Daddy’s hungry!”

He brought the phone to his face and saw Ian’s name on the screen. _Fuck._

“Ian,” _Shit._ “Hey.” 

“Who’s Brian, Mickey?”

“Yoohoo, Mickey.” Brian sang as he sat on the hood of his car. Mickey covered the receiver of his phone. He didn’t even know why he felt embarrassed, why he had to shush Brian and glare at him. His friend shrugged and raised his arms, _What?_

He really needed to find new friends.

“Brian, you know, Joe’s son? Remember? I told you about him.” He stammered. Mickey started crossing the street, lugging the garment bag and his bike with him. He could hear Ian breathing at the other end of the line, deep steady breaths. One-two-three seconds, then a quick puff of air until the cycle began again. Mickey felt tense, like he wasn’t sure why Ian turned quiet all of a sudden.

“Ian?”

_One-two-three seconds._

“Uhm…”

“I’m here.” 

“Yeah… uhm, wasn’t sure if you’re still there.”

Brian moved away from his car and swung his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, steering him from a passing car, “Sorry I’m late, babe.” squeezing his shoulder as he pulled him to the car. “Traffic in the tube is ridiculous.”

“Shut up for a minute, will yah?” He hissed at his friend.

Mickey opened the passenger door, threw the garment bag onto the front seat of the car and wheeled his bike to the trunk of the Toyota RAV4. “Sorry, Ian, sorry. Uhm,” He hooked his bike to the trunk rack really quick. “Just making sure my bike’s not gonna fall off this damn car.” 

“Are you going somewhere?”

“No, no. I was just… We were just getting something to eat. Uhm, I’m treating Brian to lunch.”

“Damn right you are.” Brian chimed in.

“Will you just…” Mickey uttered angrily at Brian.

“Mick, you’re obviously… I think I’m interrupting something. I’ll just call back later.”

“No, let me just… ” 

  
  


**_CLICK_ **

  
  


“Fuck.” _Fuck._ Mickey’s mind started racing. _Did he do something? Was Ian angry?_ He didn’t mean to shout at him. He really thought he was Brian. God damn, he should’ve checked his phone before picking it up. It wasn’t as if he purposely did it, he didn’t mean to snap at Ian.

Mickey was still standing at the sidewalk when Brian tapped him on the arm, a newly lit cigarette lodged in between his index and middle finger, “Hey, Mick.” he said casually, blowing white smoke from his nostrils, “Who was that?” 

“It was Ian.” Mickey’s voice was scratchy, like he was the one who was smoking. 

“No, shit. Mister fancy pants himself? Tell him to come with us. I wanna meet the fucker that made you wear a suit jacket for the second time in your life.” 

“Uhm…he sort of hung up on me.” He answered.

“Why?”

Mickey frowned, “I’m not sure.”

They each walked to the other side of the car, Mickey stood on the left, his hand groping the door handle. He was shifting his weight uneasily, a deep furrow in between his eyebrows. Mickey tried to replay his short conversation with Ian. _Who’s Brian, Mickey?_ He knew he’d mentioned Brian before right? _I think I’m_ _interrupting something?_ What was that all about? Mickey racked his brain trying to figure out why Ian had suddenly got ticked off. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Did Ian think… wait, did he really think… Brian was... alright, maybe Mickey wasn’t clear that he was not seeing someone when they met, and for God’s sake… _Brian, really?_

Mickey opened the door and sank onto the seat, scratching the back of his neck, as he stared at nothing particular on the street. He leaned back then cleared his throat, “I think…. I don’t even know if I’m right, to be honest. I think... he’s jealous.”

Brian raised his eyebrows, his head turned to the side looking incredulously, “Of what?”

“Of you.” he sighed.

“Me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mickey licked his dry lips, his tongue slowly dragging from the edge of his mouth, gliding towards the middle of his lower lip. His upper incisors tugged his bottom lip inward, pressing it until he was sure it’d leave indentations. He needed to process what just happened. Mickey’s eyes remained fixed on the street, his left hand still holding his phone. 

“I don’t… Fuck, I don’t know.” he blew air out from his nose, then rubbed his face fiercely, “I really don’t know, Bri.” 

  
  


_________

  
  
  


“Look, man. Maybe you’re just reading into it wrong.” Brian munched on his barbeque pulled pork sandwich, the sauce dripping onto his fingers, “Let me talk to him.”

Mickey dropped his phone in front of himself, the phone slightly sliding towards the middle of the table. “I already texted him twice, Brian. He’s not…he usually replies fast whenever I send him a message.”

Brian bobbed his head as he swallowed, taking a napkin, wiping his hands with it. “Let him think it out, Mick. Maybe,” he crumpled the napkin and flicked it near his water bottle “your boy is busy. His parents are still with him, right? I mean, we don’t really know what’s happening on his end. Maybe they're also eating lunch, like what you should be doing right now, Mickey.” Brian said, crossing his arms to his chest.

“Do you think I should call him, like apologize?”

“Eat your empanada first, man.” Brian tapped his fingers three times on the table near his lunch, “Then call.” 

“What is it with you and Miss T bossing me around to eat?” He grabbed his still warm spicy sausage empanada, biting almost to the half of it. “It’s not always pizza and instant noodles in my belly, asshole.”

“Oh yeah, you eat caviar now too and beef wellingtons?” Brian smirked. “I’m sure Ian fine dined your ass somewhere nice on your date.”

Mickey checked his phone again, making sure he didn't miss a text. “Yeah, he brought me to Sardi’s.” drawing out the last word, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “I don’t get it. He knows he’s the only guy I’m going out with right now.” 

“Does he really know that, like, did you tell him you guys are exclusive?”

“It’s not like I have the time and money to go on dates, Bri. My work alone is a deal breaker. Who would want to date a garbage boy?”

“Ian doesn’t mind.”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Also, I think...” Mickey clicked the back of his teeth, “he’s probably experimenting.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know this is like, invasion of privacy or whatever. But it’s on Wikipedia, so it’s actually public knowledge right, so I don’t know.” Mickey rubbed his palm over his face, dropping his hand onto the surface of the table and then reaching out for his water bottle, taking a sip of water and staring up at the ceiling. “He is…” his voice low, tone gentle, “He’s actually engaged.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“How? I need to fucking see this.”

“Give me your phone.” Mickey curled his fingers around Brian’s phone which was sitting at the top of the table. He slid the screen up to thumb in Ian’s full name on the phone's keyboard.

_IAN CLAYTON GALLAGHER._

He waited for the screen to pop in different links attached to his name. The first one was his Wikipedia page. Mickey pressed the arrow down button from the keyboard until it went to personal life. “Here, read it.” then extended the hand holding the phone to his friend.

Brian slumped in his chair, his brows creased and face tensed while he read his phone. He blinked several times, as his eyes scanned the words on his screen. “Wait, engaged since 2004 to Olivia Scharzmann. Damn, he was just sixteen then.” his eyes darting from his phone to Mickey’s face, “Who gets engaged at sixteen?”

Mickey shook his head, his fingers tracing patterns on the table. “I don’t know, Bri. You tell me.”

“There’s obviously a good reason why he didn’t tell you this. Mickey, you don’t seriously think he’s just experimenting with you, right?”

“What do you think?” Mickey’s mouth twitched downward, his head hanging low. He tried to fight the sadness he was feeling, trying to mask his face with a bit of control. Mickey removed his joined hands from his lap and flattened his right hand on top of the table. He exhaled slowly, lifting his eyes to his friend. “It’s actually none of my business, to be honest.” 

Brian held his gaze for a moment before saying, “You guys need to have a very long conversation, man. This is just too fucked up for you guys to not talk about it.”

Mickey glanced around the deli. There were probably nine other people sitting in the small space, each table cramped together, probably separating them a couple of feet apart. A woman passed by Mickey’s back, slightly bumping his head as she walked by him. He looked up as she said _Sorry_ as if what she did was intentional. He gave her a quick smile and turned his eyes to his phone, which was still facing down, and silent. 

“I don’t know what to do, Brian.”

“Mick,” Brain said carefully, “Look, I know this is all new to you,” he shrugged his shoulders, “maybe to him as well, we really don’t know. But you have to give him a chance too, man. To explain why he never said something about it to you. Heck, Wikipedia is fucking filled with nonsense too, by the way.” Brian stretched his legs to the side, crossing them one over the other, “Just... don’t overthink it. Have that talk, then decide what to do after.” 

“You know he’s leaving in less than a week too, right? He’s going to Connecticut.”

“Get the fuck out of here! That’s less than two hours away, Mickey. You can fucking take the train and see him every day if you want to.”

“But what if… what if I wanna do something too, like go back to school. I wouldn’t have time for a relationship then.”

“Are you seriously thinking about it, Mick? Like getting your GED?”

“I may have already gotten it last year, while you were taking your SATs. I, uhm…” Mickey had his arms folded tightly across his chest, his right foot tapping furiously on the floor. He was looking at his half eaten empanada, his heart thudding loudly. “Never told you this cause, I didn’t think I could do it. I thought I would fail miserably.”

“Fuck, Mickey.” Brian smacked his hand on the table making the table shake, the other customers turning to look at them. “Shit. I mean, wow.”

“Yeah, so I did that. And Van actually knew,” Mickey raised his eyebrows and ran his tongue over his lower lip, “my roommate, remember? His girlfriend got me an application form for city tech, and uhm…” his stomach shifted uneasily, the hands holding on to his arms pinching his skin, “well, I still got the application. It’s like, sitting in my room, and I might need some help to fill it out, you know, whatever. I mean, nothing is definite yet, but I was thinking…”

“Fucking get in, Mickey.” Brian reached out to him, his body suddenly being enveloped by his friend’s long arms. Half of his body was lifted off his chair, his shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“Jesus fuck, Brian,” he squeaked.

He felt Brian’s hand run up and down his back, like he was petting a dog roughly, then releasing him but not forgetting to playfully ruffle the top of his hair. “So proud of you, Mickey.”

Mickey was still giggling, his eyes alight as he saw his friend beaming at him. They were both talking over each other. One was excitedly telling the other how sick it was to be in college, while the other was saying how anxious he’d be once he got there. 

A few minutes into their jumbled conversation, Mickey found himself grinning widely, talking animatedly with his friend, forgetting about the text he never got back from Ian. They finished their lunch in high spirits with Brian promising him a free celebratory meal soon. He drove Mickey to his apartment, their incessant chatting about college not even stopping when Brian slowly pulled to the side of the street, right in front of his building. He climbed out of the car as soon as the car was parked. Mickey ducked down from the opened window on his side of the car and said, “Text me when you get home, okay?”

Brian tilted his head on the side and smirked, “When have I ever not, fucker?”

Mickey flipped him off and was about to turn around and walk to his building’s entrance when Brian hollered, “I can tell dad right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I would tell Joe myself, but you know your dad. Don’t want him crying during work.”

“Fuck you. He just loves you, man.”

“I know. I know.” He waved goodbye to his friend as the car slowly turned away from the sidewalk and right back onto the busy street. Mickey rushed forward, almost tripping a little over the steps going to his floor. His head was casted down on his shoes, leisurely whistling and fiddling with the keys in his pockets. He didn’t even notice a figure sitting beside his apartment door.

“You seem happy.”

“Ian?”

Mickey stared at Ian, his eyes wide, mind completely blank. He dropped the keys on the floor, the clinking sound echoing to the silent hallway. His mouth hung open, his brain scrambling to form words as it tried to process the realization that Ian was in his building, sitting on the grimy carpet, his head and back resting against the wall beside his door with the dilapidated tacky wallpaper. Ian brushed his hands over his thighs as he slowly stood up from the floor.

“I was just here, waiting for you. Didn’t actually think you’d be going home alone.”

“Ian.”

  
  
  


_Ian’s hands were trembling when he hung up the phone. He looked at his mobile, the light fading as the screen turned off. Mickey must have thought he was somebody else, somebody that sounded like he had plans with, somebody that he was close with, close enough that this person called him Babe._

_Was Mickey going on a date? Was it a lover? An ex? Had he kissed him? Had sex with him? Ian felt woozy, like he wanted to throw up or something._

_This… this couldn’t be right. Mickey liked him, right? They’d been texting and calling each other almost everyday. Actually, Ian thought they'd been constantly talking with each other everyday since they went biking to the Old Putnam Trailway. They were having a good time together. They shared kisses, told each other stories that they never told anyone. Ian thought there was something there, something special._

_His thoughts kept racing, accelerating inside his head. He wanted to slow them down, make the thoughts stop pushing against each other like a carousel. He released a slow, shaky breath. Ian pushed his closed hands into his closed eyes, his knuckles pressing into them to the point that it was hurting. His hands were shaking, palms sweating, his fingers clenching involuntarily. He pushed his fist to his trembling lips, his nostrils flaring, releasing hot wet breaths. He started to heave, short shallow breaths that were making his chest tight, constricting the airflow to his lungs. His heart began to ache, his eyesight blurring. Ian placed his head in between his thighs, hugging his knees with his shaky hands. Inhale, one-two-three-four-five, exhale. One more, Inhale, one-two-three-four-five, exhale. He forced himself to do several more until he felt his breathing get lighter, his heartbeat slowing down. Of course he was probably overreacting, maybe even being paranoid. But the voice of the man he had heard, he couldn't just ignore it. Ian couldn’t just pretend he was okay with that._

_He heard it perfectly. Another guy called Mickey babe and told him he was beautiful. He stared at his discarded phone on the floor, he might've dropped it when he was having his mini anxiety attack. He needed to know, he wanted to know, he had to do something. Ian pushed himself off the chair, legs wobbly as he stood up and tried to move his limbs. He took one step towards the door, and held onto the wall when he felt his legs quivering. Ian had to take control of his mind and body, had to will himself to get out and see Mickey. He stepped out of his room and saw his mother and father sitting at the dining table._

_“Ian, you want to come with us for lunch?” His mother said when she noticed him walking towards the fridge, “Your father and I will be at Aux Epices. I want something Thai today.”_

_“No,” Ian answered back, voice gruff and soft, “I have to go somewhere.”_

_Elena stared at her son, her mouth slightly agape. She chanced a look at her husband, who seemed distracted with the morning paper. She sat up straighter and stood up slowly, her hands wiping the wrinkles on her skirt. Elena directed her steps towards the kitchen, stretched her well manicured hand and leaned beside the kitchen counter. “You okay?” she asked as she touched her son’s arm._

_Ian dropped his head to his chest, “I just… I have to go somewhere, mom.” He murmured, shaking his head._

_“Okay,” Elena rubbed his arm, up and down, “Okay Ian.”_

_“I’ll be back later.” He exhaled a quick breath, “Please don’t wait up for me.”_

_“Okay. Call Johnson if you need Peter to pick you up somewhere.”_

_Ian nodded, his mouth trembling. He looked up and flickered his eyes to his mother and sighed. “Thank you,” Ian said quietly, his hand reaching to grab his mother’s hand on his arm, “I will.”_

Mickey opened the door of his apartment, slowly stepping inside as Ian followed him. Ian paused at the doorway, eyes roaming the space, keeping his breathing even. He needed a few moments, wanted to remember the lines he needed to say. He had rehearsed it in his head repeatedly on the way to Mickey’s apartment. Every word, every conversation that needed to be said, they had to do it now.

“Mickey,” Ian said slowly, reaching Mickey’s hand, “we need to talk.”

Mickey turned around, breathing for a moment before looking up and locking eyes with Ian. He nodded without speaking, pulling Ian inside the room towards his bed. They sat at the edge of the mattress, hands still clasped placing it in between their bodies.

“I'm jealous.” Ian said slowly, “I know, we never talked about being exclusive…”

“We are…exclusive.”

Ian’s throat bobbed, he swallowed the thick saliva pooling from his mouth, “I…I didn’t know that.” his voice cracked, eyes blinking fast, “I never knew that.” 

“I haven’t seen anybody other than you, Ian.” Mickey said firmly, squeezing his hand, eyes roaming Ian’s face. “There’s no one else but you now.”

“Okay.” Ian shuffled sideway, his body facing Mickey, “I feel I need to ask you this. And I needed to know, cause I was going crazy thinking about it.” He sniffed and pinched his nose, “Who was the guy you were with today?”

Mickey huffed a quiet laugh, lips quirking at one side, “I was with Brian. I told you that when you called me.”

“Yes, I heard you. Brian.”

“Brian is Joe’s son. He’s my best friend.”

“Best Friend with benefits?”

Mickey exhaled a laugh and looked at Ian sheepishly, “Just friends, Ian. I don’t do the friends with benefits thing.”

“Okay.”

“Is there more? You want to ask me something else?” Mickey ran his other hand to Ian’s arm, their linked hands still laying in between them. 

“I want you to come to my party this Saturday.” Ian nibbled his bottom lip, he nodded then said softly, “ I want you to be there.” 

Ian looked at Mickey's eyes, desperation creeping onto his open face. Mickey gave him a faint smile, “A party?”

“It’s my post birthday celebration and…” Ian said, a sad smile playing on his lips, “And a going away party for when I leave for Yale.”

“That’s nice, Ian.” Mickey smiled gently, his left hand pressing tenderly against the freckled skin of Ian’s forearm. “Sure, I’ll go.”

Ian watched Mickey’s hand, as it travelled up and down his arm. Pinching random areas then settling it at his wrists. “Olivia, my fiancé, will be there.” he whispered.

“Fiancè?” Mickey replied back. He studied their joined hands, and noticed Ian’s hands were trembling. He placed his other hand over their hands and covered it completely.

_This was it._ This was the moment Mickey would try and feign surprise at this information. He had been waiting for Ian to say this, to tell him who Olivia was. Mickey had to tell his mind to fall in line, to show no emotion, to appear nonchalant, to not let the pinkness of his cheeks give away how much he had waited for this, how many hours he lay awake at night thinking about this, that whatever Ian would say would be fine. That he would be fine.

“Olivia…I met her two years ago on a company vacation with our families and a few of my grandfather’s business partners. She was very beautiful. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. We…” Ian drawled, dragging the word. He pondered, looking from their hands to Mickey’s face, “were introduced to each other the same day I was told she was to become my fiancé.” Ian shook his head, like he still couldn't believe that just happened a couple of years ago. He squared his jaw, trying to stop it from trembling, “Her father is one of my grandfather’s business partners, one of the biggest contributors to the company. It was like a trap, Mickey. I was given a role to play. I have no choice but to portray that role for them to fulfill some business plan.” He bit his lip, his teeth digging into the flesh until he knew it would leave a mark. “I was just a kid then, barely even realizing what I am.”

Mickey nodded, his eyes steady, gentle. He lifted his left hand, cradled Ian’s chin and lifted it higher, high enough that they could look at each other. Blue on Green. His gaze dropped to Ian’s lips, which were the deepest shade of pink. He was quivering, discrete, tiny movements from his chin to his lips. He flattened his other hand to his chest, placing it above Ian’s heart. It was beating fast, hard, quick jabs from his ribs to the palm of his hand. Mickey breathed in and out, his eyes flickering back and forth to Ian’s eyes and then to his heart. 

“Breathe with me, Ian. Try breathing with me.”

They stared at each other, bodies inches apart. One of Mickey’s hands on Ian’s chest, the other cradling his jaw. Ian’s hands were on top of Mickey's thighs, as they sat face to face, their bodies giving off nervous warm heat to each other. They were breathing slowly, chests rising and falling in a quiet tempo, their bodies swaying to a silent music. When the air around them seemed to change, the nervous energy dissipating, replaced by warm, placid stillness, Ian’s body began to relax, the trembles stopping. 

Their gazes lingered on each other’s faces for a few seconds, reading every emotion, every quirk of their mouths, every light that bounced off their skin, their eyes softly looking at each other. 

“I’m sorry that it took me this long to tell you this. I know this is fucked up, I know I fucked up. But I need you to know you’re the only person that I’ve ever felt this way before. She is...” 

“Stop. Stop it, Ian.” Mickey watched Ian’s mouth hanging mid sentence, “I know what she is. I saw your Wikipedia a few days ago, just wanted to hear it from you.” 

“You still….want this? Want me?” Ian brought his hand to Mickey’s wrist which was still on his chest, “Please believe me that I want to be with you. Only you.”

“I just…this is a lot, Ian.” Mickey said silently. “I need to be sure… I don’t want to come between your family.”

“We can take it day by day, as long as we both still want this.”

Neither of them said anything, just watching each other, listening to their breathing. Ian swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with exertion. He was getting desperate, he wanted to know what Mickey was thinking.

“Mickey, please.” his eyes searching his face. He looked down to his lap, his shoulders hunching forward, sniffling, biting the inside of his lower lip. “Please.”

Mickey watched Ian’s brows furrowing, his lips pursed shut. He smiled sadly, he knew it wasn’t Ian’s fault, he would never have any control over it. But Mickey had decided, long before Ian admitted this secret in his life. That he would take him, for whatever he was willing to give him. That he would trust him, even if he knew he would get hurt in the end. He had decided, and he would not hesitate to give in, to take the fall. Cause Mickey knew it was worth it, however long it would last, wherever the tides take them, he knew, with all his heart, that it was worth it.

“Yes.” Mickey said softly.

Ian sighed and looked up, “Yes?”

“Yes.” Mickey said firmly.

Ian exhaled a laugh and moved closer, his hands automatically going up to cradle Mickey’s neck, “Are you sure?” He studied his face, the tips of his thumbs brushing the edges of Mickey’s lower lip, “Mickey?”

Mickey moved closer, closer until he could feel the warm breath coming out of Ian’s lips. He raised his hands, smoothing his palms over Ian’s forearm, until they reached his wrists. He wound his hands around them, his thumbs brushing lightly on the indents of his hands. Mickey peered slowly from under his lashes and sighed. 

“Yes, I want to be with you. For as long as you want.” his eyes earnest and true. Mickey was willing to do this, whatever it took.

“I will always want you.”

“Ian, let’s just take this one day at time. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ian huffed a quiet laugh. He knew he didn't deserve it, this much trust. But fuck, he was gonna try, he was gonna try to be good to Mickey. 

Ian held Mickey’s cheek, guiding it towards him. He lowered his face, their lips almost brushing. He whispered, “I’ll be good for you,” and kissed him gently. Ian let his lips linger on Mickey’s lips, until he pressed harder, his head tilting to the side, saying softly, “so good.”

Mickey gasped, Ian taking that opportunity to pull his lower lip, tugging it into his mouth. A small whine escaped Mickey’s lips, Ian wrapping his arms around him, one hand sliding underneath his shirt, cradling his waist. He lifted his body up the bed, his left arm straining with Mickey’s whole body weight on it. Ian crawled on top of the bed, his left arm dragging Mickey’s torso up onto the bed until his head hit the pillows. Ian brought his lips to Mickey’s ear, “What do you want? Tell me what you want, Mickey.”

Mickey hummed, his warm breath touching his cheeks, “I want…I just want to be close to you. Taste you.”

Ian cradled Mickey’s face and dove his mouth to his lips. He pushed harder, until Mickey opened his mouth. Ian licked inside it, teasing, probing, tasting every bit of his mouth. Ian’s hands began to wander, from Mickey’s waist up to his back. Gripping the muscles of his strong back, pressing their bodies closer, closer until all he knew was Mickey’s taut body responding to every press of his hands. His hands kept roving, finding spaces of Mickey’s body he wanted to touch, to feel. Ian was kissing everywhere, anywhere his lips could touch. Mickey’s eyes, his cheekbones, his mouth, his chin, his jawline, neck, the juncture between his neck and shoulders. He was getting so hot, they were getting so hot he was sure they would ignite. Ian could hear it, the desperation, the want, but he needed to take control, let his willpower stop him from doing something they weren’t yet ready to do. Ian had to pull back, clenching his eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t...I don’t know…” He was shaking, every nerve in his body seemed unhinged. He had to remember to be good, so good to Mickey.

“Ian.” 

He blinked fast, his eyesight blurred, hazy. Ian blinked a few more times 'til cleared. “Mickey, I don’t want to push you.”

_One day at a time._ "Yeah...we need.. We'll take it slow, until we're both ready.”

Ian eased himself down, resting his head on Mickey’s neck. He breathed him in, his beautiful scent diffusing slowly in his nose. The calmness slowly enveloped him, Mickey’s scent urging every fiber in his body to relax, to reach its state of tranquility. Ian pushed his head up and found Mickey smiling at him. He leaned down, kissing his mouth, Mickey arching against him as his eyes fluttered shut. Hot, wet breaths puffed between them, tongues gliding and sliding together, their heads tilting from side to side, making the kisses deeper. Mickey looped his hand around Ian’s neck, his head rising higher, trying to reach Ian’s lips as he sucked air into his mouth. He gripped Ian’s hair and forced it up, their puckered lips barely touching. 

“I’m okay doing this, making out. Is that okay?”

Ian thumbed Mickey’s pink, swollen lips. His thumb catching the moisture that glistens from it before kissing him again. “Whatever you want, I will take it, Mickey.” Ian said, grinning widely as he saw Mickey doing the same. Mickey turned his face shyly, his cheeks bumping Ian’s lips. He kissed him along his jawline, reaching his soft lips again. He settled one final kiss at the corner of his mouth, murmuring, “I’ll take it as long as you want.”

In the sunny afternoon, they lay together in the queen sized bed. Ian’s body on top of Mickey’s, their bodies curling, slotting perfectly together. They could hear cars passing by, their horns blasting as they turned the corner. People on the streets chatting, saying random stuff that Ian barely understood. The soft music playing from Mickey’s neighbor, that was rendering a peaceful ambience in the room. It was slowly touching them, every changing tone sending signals to their brain, an auditory message telling them that they are at peace, that everything would be okay.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I gave you jealous Ian, woohoo!!! but also, let's hear it for Mickey secretly getting his GED!!!! I like him to picture himself achieving more, and dreaming, like being where he is right now is not long term, that there's more out there. You guys like how casual they talked about this, Brian and Olivia? I just thought, some serious stuff need not be dealt with screaming, crying, arguments, some can be quiet conversations between two people you know, not everything should be dramatic af.
> 
> *** my beta JAX is the bestest!!!! Lub you  
> *** next up is the party. eeeepp!!!  
> *** whoever is still here, thank you so much. there's a lot more to go, I hope y'all still hang on, yeah?


	15. Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets to see Olivia and Ian together. And it's not turning out great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You by the light, is the greatest find.  
> In the world full wrong, you're the thing that's right.  
> Finally made it through the lonely, to the other side.
> 
> You said it again my heart's in motion, every word feels like a shooting star.  
> I'm at the edge of my emotions, watching the shadows burning in the dark.
> 
> And I'm in love, and I'm terrified  
> For the first time, in the last time, in my only life."
> 
> \- Terrifed (Katharine Mcphee and Zachary Levi)

September 8, 2006

7:02 PM

Beyond the french doors of the lobby at the Le Coucou Hotel is a 1650 square foot five-star restaurant, which boasts of elegance and opulence. _The Starr_ is named after the owner of all the Le Coucou hotels around the world, Daniel Starr, who wanted the glamour and pretentiousness of the Parisians well represented in his establishments. Inside, it is well lit with several low hanging french crystal chandeliers giving a subdued hue in the room, making the area have a romantic ambience. The walls were lined with white washed-out bricks, completely bare but with a lone rectangular 120 x 90 feet mirror that hung exactly in the middle of the long wall, facing the streets. A few white pillars separating one section of the space to the other can also be seen, giving an alcove appearance to some parts of the room, thereby allowing some guests to have some sort of privacy if they wanted. 

When you burst through the door, the first thing that hits you is the decadent aroma of freshly cooked food. The smell of herbs and well spiced meat enticing your olfactory nerves head on that makes your mouth water. You could see twelve banquet style round tables covered by white linen tablecloths arranged facing the open kitchen that runs along a solid oak hardwood floor. The sight in itself is like walking into an old french Brasserie, similar to an Art Nouveau capsule. 

Ian was standing next to his parents, welcoming the guests that are all clad in their best outfits. The invite had said formal attire, hence the sea of black suits and dresses in the restaurant. He himself was wearing a black and white bespoke Hickey Freeman suit that his mother had picked out a week ago. His outfit was a black birdseye windowpane tasmanian suit with a hand painted dark grey Stefano Ricci silk tie and in his breast pocket is its matching pocket square.

At first, Ian had insisted on wearing his Chelsea boots for the party, since he knew he would be standing all throughout the night and would prefer to feel comfortable. But of course his mother would intervene with his choice of shoes and force him to wear the black Prada leather lace-up dress shoes she had bought from Milan a few weeks ago for him. It would complete the look she said, it would make a very good impression. 

Good looking, smart, very elegant young adult man, deserving to be called the grandson of Arthur James Gallagher.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to one of his father’s business partners, “Yes, in Yale,” he continued as the man congratulated him, “Yes, Olivia will be here in just a moment. I just received a call from her.” Ian stifled a smile, he could feel the ghost of sweat underneath his collar, “Yes, thank you. I am very lucky indeed.” His skin began to burn, heat slowly inching its way beneath his skin. Ian’s heart started to pound loudly in his ears, his fingers twitching. “Thank you.” 

He stepped back, blew air from his mouth and looked up to the ceiling. An hour more of this and he knows he’ll be ready to crawl out of his skin. Ian tilted his head to the long line of guests in the hallway, all gorgeous, put together, with their fake smiles and fancy jewelry. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his hands crossing over each other on his back. 

“Stop fidgeting, Ian,” his mother said as she looked at him in her periphery, “There’s only a few more and we can sit down.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, nodding to himself. “I’m just tired, mom.”

“As soon as Olivia gets here, we can all sit down and…” 

“Elena.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Christine,” she surprisingly said. 

Christine Hearst, wife of Stephen Schwarzman, parents of Olivia Schwarzman, fiancé of her son Ian, looking regal in her silk white dress that clings to every curve of her body. She had her straight blonde hair fall profusely down her shoulders, her face made up like a glamorous movie star. Christine gave Elena a double kiss on the cheeks while she held her small shoulders, their heads moving from one side to the other in a practiced way. Beside her is Stephen and Olivia, who is currently speaking with Ernie.

“Ian, belated happy birthday, sweetheart,” Christine said and gave him a peck on the cheek. She cocked an eyebrow at the young man and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. He looks awfully tense and stiff, quite anxious. _Hmm._ “Olivia, come over here, say hi to Ian.”

Olivia turned and made a small wave at Ian as she walked towards him. She was more beautiful than the last time he saw her, a little over a year ago when their families had a vacation in Italy for the summer. Olivia was wearing a long silver strapless gown with a slit on the side, that reached just above the middle of her right thigh and sparkly strappy heels that adorned her delicate feet. She had her hair swept on one side, a bejeweled hair clip tucked just above her ear to secure her hair into place. Her face looked almost bare, only with a hint of blush on her cheeks and the rosy pink lipstick on her mouth. She truly is gorgeous.

“Ian, it’s been a while.” Olivia said when she finally reached him. 

“Olivia.” He gave her a peck, his lips brushing lightly on her smooth cheek. Ian inadvertently inhaled her scent, feeling underwhelmed, thinking to himself that It’s not right, it’s not the kind of smell that he likes, that he loves. There wasn't anything special about this smell, nothing that would imbue any sort of warmth in him, something that give him joy or happiness. He suddenly yearns for it, that familiar scent that his senses are particularly looking for. If it were any man, he would probably feel enamored by Olivia’s beauty, be a floundering fool in front of her. But Ian was not that kind of man. He never will be that kind of man for Olivia.

“You ready for college?” Olivia asked as she extended her hand for Ian to take it.

“Getting there.” He hooked her hand to his forearm and walked away from the entrance.

“It’s a good thing you have me to give you a tour once you get there. Did you know our apartments are three doors away from each other?” 

“I, uhm...No, I haven’t even seen where I’ll be staying....”

Olivia glanced behind them and then turned, whispering in his ear like she’s telling a secret, “My father got a call from your dad a week ago and,” she touches his arm, “I hope you don’t mind, but my father suggested to your dad that we should live close to each other. And it just so happened there was an available unit on my street, so my dad placed some phone calls and viola, we’re neighbors. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, great,” he said, stumbling a bit on the hardwood floor, his shoe getting caught on nothing, “That’s certainly great news, Olivia.”

“Oops, you okay?” As she held onto his arms tightly, righting his body up. “Come, let’s get some drinks, I’m parched.”

  
  


_________

  
  


Same day

7:57 PM

  
  
  


Mickey stepped off to the side of the car, fiddling with his dark blue pants and matching suit jacket making sure there were no creases or lint on them. He smoothed his hand to his silver tie, tucking it inside his jacket. _Fuck, he’s nervous._ He was supposed to be in the Le Coucou Hotel at exactly seven in the evening, but he had to wait for Brian, and Brian is always late.

There were a few people outside the building, not sure if they were on queue to get inside the restaurant or they were guests of the hotel who just happened to be standing outside the hotel, idly chatting. None of them were decked out in anything formal or elegant, just casual folks in their sundresses and jorts. Mickey took a few steps towards the entrance, his hand about to grasp the long black horizontal handle of the door when he suddenly had the need to suck in a huge gulp of air. _Jesus, what the fuck is he doing here?_

“Hey, Mick. You got the invite right?”

He turned around to his friend and patted his suit. Inside his jacket is a secret pocket where he apparently had placed the envelope with the invitation. Mickey pulled it out and brought out the black parchment with silver lettering. He reads the words carefully, as if he hasn’t read it twenty five times as soon as Ian gave the invitation to him.

  
  
  


COME JOIN US TO TOAST THE CELEBRATION 

OF 

  
  


**IAN CLAYTON GALLAGHER’S**

**18TH BIRTHDAY**

8 SEPTEMBER 2006

7 - 11 PM

AT LE COUCOU HOTEL

THE STARR RESTAURANT

138 LAFAYETTE STREET, 

NEW YORK, NY 10013 

RSVP BY SEPTEMBER 3 TO MIGUEL 212 345 8221

  
  
  


He gritted his teeth, huffing a slow breath out of his mouth, “Uhm, yeah... I got it right here.”

Brian nodded at him and gave his keys to the valet, “Here you go, kid. Knock yourself out.”

He walked briskly to the entrance, opening the door for Mickey, pushing it wide enough for him to get in and will his mind to move his feet, one foot at a time, like an infant who’s just learning how to walk.

“Mickey,” Brian panted, looking sideways at him, “C’mon, man.”

“Shit Bri, I'm so nervous.”

“I know,” Brian whispered behind him, flattening his hand on Mickey’s lower back. “I’m right here okay. You won’t be doing this alone, you hear.” He pushed Mickey ahead of him and walked into the room. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can just ditch this party and go to the Belfry and get fucking drunk like we used to.” 

He smiled and leaned into the touch, “Thanks, Bri. I knew I made the right choice of inviting you for tonight. You always have my back, man.”

“Fuck you, as if you have better looking friends than me to bring as your fake date?”

Mickey chuckled and kicked him on the shin.

“Hey, hey quit it, asshole. Don’t fucking ruin my outfit.” his friend said as his hands ran the lines of his pants. He looked at Mickey and gave him a wink, “You ready, tiger?”

Mickey pasted a smile on his face and reached across the small space between them and held Brian’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Oh, you betcha.”

They walked further inside, hand in hand until Mickey saw a familiar face. He cleared his throat and said, “Brett?”

“Sir Alek.” His gaze looked from Mickey’s face, then to Brian then down to their clasped hands.

Brian looked at Mickey, smiling crookedly at him, ”Alek?”

“Shut up, it’s a long story.” and waved his free hand over his face. He looked passively at Brett, like he knew what the long story is, “ You know me, Brett. I’m Mickey, but I’m also Alek,” his brows furrowing, “so two names, right? But, yeah, it’s Mickey, for now. You get it?”

Just as Mickey was about to make an elaborate explanation to Brett why he has two names, the hostess came rushing over them, “Hi, good evening gentlemen. My name is Samantha. Are you here for the Gallagher party?”

“Yes, yes we are here for the party. I… have an invitation.”

“Oh, no need for that. Can I have your names, please?” 

“Uhm, Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich?”

“Of course, yes.” The brunette hostess checked on her leather bound clipboard, “Yes. We got you listed as Mikhailo Milkovich and a plus one. And that’s you.” She gave Brian a huge smile, eyes dancing with delight. “Lovely. Please follow me gentlemen, I’ll show you to your seats. Dinner has already started.” 

Mickey chuckled, nudging his friend with his elbow. “I think she likes you.”

“Shut up, tiny.”

As they went inside the restaurant, another familiar face stopped them momentarily on their steps. “Johnson.”

“Sir Mickey.” He gave him a curt smile.

“Oh hey, been a long time, man.” Mickey wasn’t even surprised that he knew how to call him. He was sure Ian may have told him the story behind the pseudonym. Johnson placed a hand on his arm, guiding him to the right side of the room. The hostess waved at the second table from the entrance, just in front of a big window that had a great view of the street. The shades were pulled up, allowing the natural light from the outside in the restaurant. Mickey can even see the moon from where they were seated at, shining magnificently in the sky that night. She placed two name cards in front of their plates and bid them to have a nice evening.

“Has Sir Ian seen you yet?” Johnson, who was still standing behind Mickey's chair asked him perfunctorily. 

“I don’t think so. We just arrived.”

“Okay.” 

Johnson then did a quick look around the room and turned around to nod at Brett who was still standing motionless at the entrance of the restaurant. Brett jutted his chin towards the left side of the room and all of them looked towards that direction. It was like everything was in slow motion, his head turning slowly to his left, his neck straining a bit to look beyond the sea of heads in front of him, his shoulder rising a little with exertion. At the first table on the left is an alcove where two tables can be found. Mickey assumed these two tables are meant to be together, maybe two groups of people that looked to be a family. Yeah, he thought to himself, they look like a lot like a family.

To the right, in front of the open kitchen is Ian and a very beautiful blonde girl. Laughing, chatting, touching. Mickey even saw Ian’s hand over the her hand on top of the table. His eyes looked forward, not wavering at the sight of them. It was like he was hypnotized, like his brain is telling him to memorize this exact scene before him. Maybe it was the shock of it, or the mere humiliation that he had to witness this in real time, but he felt unsteady, unsteady enough to mask what he really felt. To put on a brave face in front of his friend, in front of Johnson, in front of these fucking people who doesn’t know the inner turmoil boiling inside of him. 

Quickly, he puts it on. The mask that he’s had for years, the mask that had protected him since he was nine years old. Mickey quirked his lips, blinking slowly. He turned to Brian who was seated on his right. With a blank expression he said to him, “Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

“Alright, Mick.” Brian clicked his teeth and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Remember what we talked about earlier, okay. The Belfry is just a few blocks from here.”

“Yup, I remember.” and placed his hand on top of his friend’s thigh, squeezing it a bit. “Thanks, Bri.”

Ian’s eyes were hovering around the room for some time now. He had been checking his phone for any call and messages. There were a few from his cousins and friends from high school that he had invited, telling him how excited they were for the party and to meet Olivia, but nothing from Mickey. Ian sighed and took a large gulp of his champagne, laughing randomly at Olivia’s never ending stories. He placed his empty flute on the table and brought out his phone one more time.

“Are you waiting for a call?”

“Uhm, yeah. Sort of.” He looked at a passing female waitress and smiled. She hurriedly went to their table asking if he needed something she could help him with.

“Hi, I need another glass of champagne and can you please ask that gentleman over there,” Ian motioned his hand to where Johnson was standing at, “and tell him I need to speak with him for a second.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll go get you champagne.” She took his empty glass and asked Olivia if she needed something as well. 

They were still talking when he suddenly saw a very recognizable raven haired fellow. He was sitting at the farthest corner of the room, maybe a few feet from the entrance, his back facing Ian. The guy was wearing a dark blue suit, his hair styled like a low quiff. Ian couldn't see much of the guy, since he was bracketed by an arm at the back of his chair. Beside him is a tall lean guy, probably even taller than Ian, probably also about his age or a couple years older. He had wavy coffee brown hair that reached the ends of his hairline. The tops of his head were brushed up as a pompadour, looking very neat and stylish. He seemed to be wearing a dark brown suit, which contrasted perfectly to his tanned skin. From where Ian is at, he can see the guy’s profile. He had a very strong jawline, sharp cheekbones and pointed nose. He looked like a greek god, to be honest. All olive skin and well defined facial bone structure. The guy is nice, too nice that he can easily get two, three glances back from people when he walks into a room.

They were sitting very close to each other, very close that he could see the guy’s lips almost brushing the black haired fellow’s ear. Ian narrowed his eyes, trying to see if the smaller guy would turn around so he could see if his suspicions were true, if this guy he’s looking at is Mickey.

“Ian, your father will be making a toast.” His mother tells him. 

Ian’s mouth twitched, his mind buzzing. Dread and anxiety consuming the recesses of his brain. He faced his mother, giving her a tight smile and said, “Of course.”

“You should stand, bring Olivia with you.”

He extended his hand to Olivia and asked her to stand up. But just as they were about to raise from their chair, Johnson came up behind him. He squared his shoulders and turned his body towards his bodyguard. “Johnson.” he said slowly.

“Sir.” Johnson leaned down, head inches away from Ian’s.

“Is he here?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“Give me the name of the person he’s with. Text it to me.”

“Sir Mickey didn’t give it to the hostess, sir. They were late. We had to bring them in quickly.”

“Okay.”

“Ian, go stand up now, you father is already speaking.” His mother pulled his attention away from Johnson, her voice stern and serious.

“Yes, mom. I’m sorry.” He placed his hand on Olivia’s elbow and stood up from the table. They were walking slowly towards the middle of the room, when he locked eyes with Mickey. 

“I welcome each and everyone of you for coming tonight. It is a delight to see so many familiar faces in the room, most of whom I have worked with for years. Thank you for sharing the night with us.” Ernie raised his glass to the room then continued, “A few weeks ago, Ian celebrated one of the many milestones in his life. He had celebrated his eighteenth birthday and is now a full fledged adult man. And I believe he should be treated as such from now on, I gather.” He laughed dryly. “It was not too long ago when me and Elena witnessed his first walk, heard him utter his first words, see him leave for his first day of school, and also had the great news of him being accepted at Yale. And this fall, he will be starting his university life with no other than his lovely fiancé, Olivia.” He faced the couple who were standing right next to him, Olivia beaming with the attention while Ian was looking at a distinct spot in the room. Ernie nudged his chin forward to Elena, who was looking at him, waggling her well manicured fingers at him to move on. “I would like to take this opportunity to thank Stephen and Christine for accepting my son into their family and for the help and support you gave him to make his transition in Yale as smooth as possible.” He tilted his glass to them and then faced the crowd in front of him. Ernie then faced where his wife was sitting at, which is the table on his right. He smiled widely. “And finally, I would also like to thank my beautiful wife, Elena for giving me the most perfect son. You two are the most important people in my life, and I would forever be thankful for that.” He puckered his lips and gave her an air kiss. “So now, let’s create happy memories and surround ourselves with good food, fine wine and laughter. Have fun and thank you everybody. Cheers,” then lifted the flute to his mouth, downing the rest of his champagne. 

Ernie went to the couple beside him and gave Olivia a peck on the cheeks but not before he held onto Ian’s wrist firmly to distract him from his thoughts. “Olivia, may I have a word with my son for a moment.”

“Yes, of course mister Gallagher.” She unhooked his hand on Ian’s elbow and patted his cheek, a small smile on her face. “I’ll be right there at the table, okay. Just call if you need me.” 

“Thank you, Olivia.”

She sauntered to the table and made small talk to the people at the table. She was looking at Ian and his father, not missing the tension their bodies were emitting as soon as mister Gallagher’s speech was finished. Her gaze landed on a table at the far right corner of the room, where he noticed Ian was looking at. There were two men, both unapologetically attractive, but obviously not part of their crowd. She wondered who they were, and what they were doing here, aside from the fact that it affected Ian’s demeanor completely when he saw them. Olivia kept on looking at the pair, the smaller one seemed to be more on the edge than the other. She saw the man stealing glances at Ian, like he was making sure he was still there in the middle of the room and not anywhere else. The man beside him kept on elbowing him, trying to get his attention or something. She blinks, her eyelashes fluttering. Olivia’s curiosity let her eyes run over Ian’s face and body language and then to the other guy. Both were discretely stealing glances at each other, and both were hunched over, like trying to make themselves look small. Ernie Gallagher seemed to be in deep conversation with his son to notice it, how his son was reacting to the other guy’s looks. She kept on studying them, took notes of the silent interactions. She may be witnessing something here, something good, something she can use later. Olivia narrowed her eyes as she sipped her drink, bringing the flute slowly on to her lips. This she thought, is very interesting.

“Ian, get yourself together, you hear me. I will not be humiliated at this party.” Ernie gripped his son’s wrist tighter. “Fucking put on a smile and act like this is the greatest day of your life.” He let go of Ian’s wrist and smoothed his coat jacket, “Go and get Olivia, and ask her to dance.” then pats his chest, “I’ll ask them to play something for you two. Do it now, Ian,” Ernie said on a drawl.

“Yes... yes sir.”

Ian took long strides to the table, his mind a complete mess. He kept his gaze forward, urging his feet to go to Olivia, who was smiling at him, waiting for him, oblivious of the fact that he was just sandbagged by his father. He felt his limbs trembling, his lips quivering. He flickered over his shoulder and saw Mickey watching him, his eyes sad and dejected. He casted his eyes downward, like he knew he was the reason for this, to make Mickey feel this way. Ian turned to Olivia and forced his face to keep it forward. He arched his chest, squared his shoulders and grit his teeth. He can do this. _Just fucking do it, Gallagher_ _._

“Olivia, can I have this dance?”

Olivia knew they were being watched, knew that every eye in the room was scrutinizing their every move. If they wanted a show, Olivia is down with that. This is not her first rodeo, and fuck it if she’s going to screw this up. 

Her blue eyes glided on Ian’s face, a smile forming on her lips. She arched an eyebrow, “Sure, Ian.” and lifted her palms towards him. “Where will we dance though?”

“Uhm, well…” 

The music suddenly filled the air, the sound rushing in fast and loud to every person in the room. Ian could hear Lauren Hill’s low raspy voice booming from the speakers, the song _Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You_ spinning around them, urging them to move. Olivia guided his hands to her waist as she curled her hands on Ian’s neck. She watches Ian's eyes, all wide eyed and panicked. She placed her cheek on to his and whispered, “Just go with it, Ian. This will be over before you know it.”

Ian doesn’t remember them moving, gliding along the floor, their bodies making tiny circles with the music. They spun around, Olivia’s back now to the crowd, his face exposed for them to see. He moved his hand to the curve of her hips, his body following the motion as she moved them from side to side. Ian caught sight of Mickey, as he stood up from the table, his date’s hand automatically sliding on his lower back. He gasped loudly, a huge amount of air going inside his mouth. He stopped moving, his body perfectly still as he saw Johnson walking towards the pair, talking to them as if asking where they were going. Ian saw Mickey shaking his head, reaching from his back to hold the other man’s hand. He needed to keep his face neutral, to keep it as blank as possible. There is a tightness in his throat, his chest aching, like it’s holding up all the air in his lungs, he can’t... he can’t breathe.

“Ssshhhh… calm down, Ian. C’mon, breath.” Olivia stroked Ian’s neck, up and down. Her thumb gently caressing the length of his neck from the bottom of his ears down to his pulse point. “Just a few more seconds, okay. And then you can go to him.” 

Ian lifted his head from Olivia’s cheek, his brain trying to process what she just said. He blinked at her several times, his mouth hanging open. He wanted to make sure what he heard was real and not his mind playing tricks on him.

“Where is your father, Ian?” Olivia whispered over his neck.

“He’s uhmm… he’s at the bar with his partners and your dad.”

“Good. You ready?”

“Olivia.”

“Ian.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Kiss my hand before you go. Remember, everybody is watching.”

Ian swallowed, trying to keep up a calm tone to his voice. “Okay.” he said into her hair. 

He dropped his hand from Olivia’s hips and untangled her hands from his neck. They looked at each other, Ian’s eyes searching for any indication as to why she said what she said. Her eyes were fixed on his, sending quiet messages that she knew, she knows what’s happening. She tilted her head to the side and smirked.

“Do you need any more instructions for tonight, or do you need me to spell it out for you. Kiss my hand so you can go to him before he truly leaves the party.” She nudged her hand to him, practically pushing her hand to him to kiss it in front of all the guests.

Ian chuckled softly, his soft eyes not leaving Olivia’s eyes that’s filled with mirth. He bent slightly forward, pulling her left hand to his lips. Once his lips brushed the delicate knuckles on her hand, he stood up slowly, and said through his smiling lips, “Thank you. I think... I have to go. I think I need something to attend to.”

“Go. I’ll be here waiting.” She winked, then turned around, walking past him towards their table.

He nodded then sprinted his way off the dance floor. Ian walked quickly, his feet hitting the floor hard and fast. He has to find Mickey, he has to get to him. 

His head bobbed from side to side, some guests stopping him as he tried to make his way out. He looked at the table where he was sure they were seated and found the chairs empty. Ian kept going, his feet aching with the new shoes his mother had forced him to use for the night. He quickened his pace, not minding the grueling pace and the discomfort on his feet. Ian opened the doors of the restaurant, the warm humidity hitting his face. He could feel his heart throbbing inside his chest, he was panting, like he had been walking for hours. He could feel his skin burning, like it was electrified. He has to get to Mickey. He needs to find Mickey.

Ian sprinted down the sidewalk, his head turning from side to side, trying to figure out where Mickey went. He decided to go left. He always goes left. He started running, like he was sure he could find Mickey at the end of the block. When he finally reached the corner, he saw Johnson leaning against the wall, a cigarette in between his fingers. Ian’s hands went to his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Johnson, did you at least get his name.”

“Yes, sir.”

He kept his body bent down, his breathing ragged and his lungs gasping for air.

“Was Mickey… was he upset?”

“Yes.”

Ian groaned and walked towards Johnson, leaned his body against the wall. He extended his left hand to Johnson, open palmed. His bodyguard brought out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed it on top of his hand. Ian opened the box and pulled out a cheap pink lighter, placing a cigarette onto his lips. He slowly inhaled the smoke, a minty odor slowly escaping from his lips. 

“I need to fix this, Johnson.” He said, then taking another drag, “I need to see him.”

Johnson narrowed his eyes on him, as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement. “You shouldn’t have invited him, Ian. You knew your family would be there.”

“I thought… I wasn’t…” Ian crossed his arms over his chest, his lit cigarette hanging on the edge of his lips. He straightened his body and curled his fingers on the filtered blunt, placing the stick in between his index and middle finger. “I just wanted to be with him, you know.” Ian winced and shook his head, “I didn’t anticipate things to turn out this way.”

Johnson nodded, crossing his leg one over the other and leaned closer to Ian. “You can still fix this, you know. But you have to do something right now, tonight.”

“Ha!” Ian looked sideways at Johnson, “That’s easy for you to say.”

“We could think of something, you and I,” his lips twitching upwards. “The night is still young.”

“The night is still young? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve worked with your father for years, Ian. Him with his partners in a bar? I’ll give you an hour and he’ll be asking for us to take him home.”

“You think?” Ian’s brow furrowed, a small smile playing on his lips.

Johnson nodded gently, “Yup,” a smile threatening to spread across his face. “So, quit sulking and make a plan, Ian. Cause we’re going to Mickey’s tonight.”

  
  


_________

Same day

10:11 PM

“Mickey, I think you’ve had enough.”

“No, no.” He swirled his index finger in the air and pursed his lips, “One more. Just one last drink, Brian.” Mickey took a deep breath and pushed himself up on the table. “Watch, imma get us free drinks even.” He said, licking his lips.

Brian watches his friend try to walk a straight line towards the bar. Mickey kept on bumping into something. A waiter with an arm full of appetizers, a stool that happens to be bolted on the floor that Mickey attempted to push under the table, a guy who Brian notices is extra handsy on his friend, and luckily, Mickey still had the presence of mind to swat his hands away and flip the guy off, a woman who was totally oblivious that he was drunk and thought he was dancing with her and finally the poor straight bartender who, by the looks of it, Mickey was flirting with. But by the grace of Hera, the bartender did give Mickey free drinks, and even took a shot with him. He watches as he sees his friend giggling into his drink, his cheeks flushed red and eyes already bloodshot giving away how inebriated he is. Brian has got to save his friend and bring him home.

“Jesus,” Brian said, shaking his head. He took Mickey’s suit jacket that he left at the back of his chair, folded it in half, and let it hang loosely on his arm. Brian took out his phone from his coat jacket and checked on the time. It’s not even midnight yet and here he was, not even slightly buzzed, carrying two coats in his arms, and is now about to call his girlfriend that he’s coming over.

“Marge, did I wake you?” His eyes followed Mickey as he stood by the bar, trying to balance himself by holding on the edge of the table top. He wobbled on the high stool, his legs buckling as he attempted to stand. “Yeah, Mickey’s fucking wasted.” Brian patted his pockets, making sure he’s got everything. Mickey’s phone, his keys, and the envelope with the invitation that he threw on the sidewalk not so long ago. “Yeah… I’ll just bring him home first then I’ll go to yours.” Mickey tried to prop himself on top of the bar, like he wanted to climb on top of it. _Shit._ “Okay, fuck. I gotta go, baby.” 

Brian rushed towards the bar, his feet shuffling fast, like he’s almost running. He pushed people away to get to his friend, almost getting a slap from a girl who thought he had groped her. He shouted sorry back at her as his outstretched arms clasped tightly at Mickey’s belt. 

“Shit, Mickey, what the fuck?”

“Was trying to get another shot, but James’ ignoring mmeeee.”

“Okay, Mick. I think you’ve had enough.” He flagged James off and mouthed sorry. Mickey’s upper body was slumped on top of the bar, waving his right hand animatedly to the amused bartender. “Mick, c’mon man, it’s time to go.” 

Brian pulled Mickey down from the bar and rubbed his shoulders down to his biceps. Mickey looked at him goofily, face flushed and hair disheveled. He was fumbling to hold on to his arms, his legs unsteady, his body rocking back and forth. Brian stopped Mickey’s hands which are now suspiciously going up to his armpits, like he wanted to tickle him. 

“Mick, stop it.”

“Okay, Bri. Hold on.” He hooks his right hand to the Brian’s waist, and fists the middle of his shirt. “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” then his left foot slides sideways on the floor, “Whoops.” 

“Shit, Mick. Stop it. Just… hold on to my waist. I’m gonna get us out of here.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“S’kay, Mick. Just hold on, alright.” 

“Okay.”

Mickey pouted and laid his head on Brian’s chest. “You’re no fun. Why does tonight have to suck, like suck my dick, suck.”

“Careful,” He hooked his left arm just below Mickey’s last rib, and started walking out of the bar. He was almost dragging him, his friend a literal dead weight in his arms. “Don’t say that cause somebody might hear you and take your offer. And I’m not in the mood to punch horny men touching you inappropriately.”

“Look at you being all so protective and shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He groaned.

Mickey tries to walk, but it seems that his legs aren't working properly. He tells his mind to make his limbs work, to just make one step, move, one foot over the other. But it keeps failing him, his legs buckling as soon as he attempted to lift his foot. Mickey felt the ground shaking, like the tectonic plates are moving, doing sliding motions underneath the earth’s surface. His vision starts to waver, in and out his eyesight goes. 

“Who else is gonna make sure you get home safe tonight, huh Mick?” 

Brian was met with soft snores from his friend, his head lolling to the side. He stifled a laugh and pulled Mickey higher until his arms were practically bracketing his whole torso. They staggered out of the pub and into the streets. 

Just a few more steps and they’ll be where he parked his car. 

“Hey, bro. Your boyfriend is drunk as fuck.” A passing pedestrian shouted at him.

“Yeah, who asked you, asshole.” Brian barked back.

“Was just saying he’s drunk, man. No need to be hostile, Jesus Christ.”

He was struggling to keep them balanced, to stop their bodies from colliding from inanimate objects that are virtually stationary on the sidewalk, to just keep fucking walking down the street without any of them stumbling or worse, falling. Brian knew this would happen, he knew that party was a disaster waiting to happen. He listened to Mickey for hours, trying to convince him it was a good idea. That he needed to meet Ian, that he is a good guy, that he’s really fun. That they can probably steal some moments during the party to have a conversation, that maybe, they could also sneak out and have smoke or a drink somewhere, away from the prying eyes of Ian’s family and Olivia. Brian sighed, brought Mickey’s sagging body higher. He fucking knew this would happen. 

Brian stepped backwards and adjusted Mickey’s body, holding him up with one hand under his armpits. He pulled out his car keys and opened the passenger door. Mickey was so pliant, he didn’t even have trouble carrying him and securely strapping him in the car seat. He closed the door and rushed to his side of the car, got in and pried the windows open. A cool breeze can give Mickey some reprieve, he doesn't want him to feel claustrophobic in case he wakes up and finds all the windows closed and the AC turned on. 

He studied his friend's slackened face. Mickey was puffing tiny breaths from his slightly opened lips, his body lay motionless on the seat, the seat belt wound from his right shoulder down to his left hip. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and called Margaret telling her they’re on their way to Mickey’s and said in a whisper how much he loves her and he should be in a little past eleven. Brian then turned on the ignition and slowly pulled out from the curb, his mind telling him in autopilot that he had to go to 22nd Street and get his friend home safely.

  
  
  


________

  
  


Same night

10:43 PM

Ian runs a hand through his hair, his feet taking two steps at a time as he goes up to the third floor of the building. It had been two hours since he last saw Mickey, and he wanted to know, needed to know if he’d screwed up the only thing that was making his pathetic life bearable. He’s had his phone in his hands since him and Johnson had left the hotel, kept debating with himself if he should’ve sent a message to Mickey, or maybe even called him before he got this big idea of coming to see him. He even offered to drive and not ask Peter to bring the car with them, like he needed to prove that he could do it, that he can go to Mickey without anybody’s help. Well, Johnson was with him, and he knows, knew if Ian was alone, he might back out and not be sturdy. 

He can be a coward, he’d always been. He’d naturally talked himself out of anything, afraid of speaking up, afraid of losing, afraid of failing. And he’s got to do something tonight, anything. To remedy what his impulsiveness had caused. Because right now, while he’s got his phone in his hands, his knuckles turning white with how much he’s been gripping it, he’s got to know, needs to know. That maybe he should have sent Mickey a message before coming here, or maybe gave the guy some sort of indication that he’s coming over, and that he would try to fix this, whatever he’d done that made him see Mickey’s face that unhappy, that hurt. Cause he can’t bear it, can’t imagine how he had fucked up, and he would never intentionally fuck up what he has with Mickey. 

He knocked on door 308 three times, his knuckles rapping the surface softly. Ian listened for some movements on the other side of the door, his ears straining for any sounds. He knocked louder three more times, faster this time, cause he can’t stand the silence, he wants to stir the stillness in the air. Ian was unmoving, his eyes staring at this stationary barrier between him and Mickey. Finally, he hears footsteps, gentle thumping on the floor. The person who opened took him by surprise, his brain desperately trying to make sense of it all. He stood there, motionless, mouth agape, eyes wide and wild.

“Ian, what the fuck are you doing here?”

It was the greek god himself, all six foot two inches of him. All broad and long, olive skinned, body slim yet muscular, bone structure fine and all symmetrical. He looked perfect.

“You’re Brian.”

Brian blocked the doorway with his body, but kept his right hand to the door knob. “What are you doing here?”

“I… wanted to talk with Mickey.”

“He’s asleep. He…” Brian says, not meeting Ian’s eyes, ruffling the back of his hair. “He’s very drunk.”

“I need to see him.”

“He’s not… I don’t think…” Brian sighed, he looked at Ian, then shook his head. 

_Fuck it._ Brian thought, maybe he can decide for Mickey tonight. Maybe, just maybe, this would turn out right. “Alright, I’m gonna fucking let you in, not because I want to, but because I think Mickey would like you to be here tonight,” he says in a lower voice, his eyes scanning Ian’s face. “Don’t you fucking make me regret this.”

Brian opens the door wide for Ian, letting him walk in, and then closes the door behind him. 

“Thank you,” Ian said under his breath, his feet slowly taking small strides into the room, until he sees a sleeping figure on the bed, it’s back facing them.

“Okay, he’s been asleep for a while now. I put a bottle of water beside the bed and a couple of Tylenol. If you think you need to get a basin or a pail or whatever, I think there’s something under the sink.” Brian groaned, “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m letting you do this, when you’re the reason why he’s like this.” 

Ian frowns, his brows furrowing, “I know, that’s why I came. I need…” he shrugged and smiled weakly at Brian, “I need to let him know how sorry I am.” Ian sniffled then shook his head, “I know I fucked up.”

“Well that’s an understatement right there,” Brian snaps. 

_Fuck._

He knows he’s being an asshole, he knows he’s being hard on the kid, but Mickey is his friend and he’s got to have his back, always. Ian had hurt him tonight, and this kid has got to make this right, cause he can’t, won’t allow some rich boy to hurt his best friend. If he had to get a whole goddamn group of angels singing fucking hymns of praise or rock to Switchfoot’s _I Dare You to Move_ to make Mickey happy, so be it. Just as long as he doesn’t get to see that sorrow in his friend’s eyes again. 

_This redhead should fix this… tonight._

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He glanced up at Ian and found him staring at the floor, “Sorry, man.” he repeated.

“I deserve that, I guess.”

“Look,” Brain held out the word, “I need to go. My girlfriend is waiting for me.” He looked at Mickey’s sleeping form, “He doesn’t need some grand gesture, Ian. He just needs somebody who’s going to be honest with him.” Brian reaches out to touch Ian’s arm, “You’ve got to let him know he can trust you.”

Ian gives a tiny nod, his lips curving downward. “I know. I swear to god, I’m going to make it right,” he breathes out. “I will make it right,” he says again firmly.

Brian tilted his head, one side of his lip curving upward, “You better, or I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass if you don’t.” He then pats Ian’s shoulder as he passes him by going to Mickey. “Hey, Mick. I gotta go, okay. Uhm…” Brian turned back to Ian, “somebody’s here to take care of you, ‘kay. Text me when you wake up, alright. Love you brother.” He stroked Mickey’s back gently, then planted a kiss on his temple. Brian took his discarded suit jacket on the floor and gave Ian a final look then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

It’s almost pitch black in Mickey’s room, apart from the opened window that’s drawing in the light from the sky, giving ample brightness in the darkened room. He looked out, his eyes fleeting from one star to the other, giving him light and hope, making him braver, bolder. Ian watches Mickey’s body, rising and falling with every breath he takes. He’s got his navy blue jacket draped over him, his fingers curling at the lapels of it. Mickey was still wearing his brown Oxford shoes, his left foot tucked under his right ankle. Ian slowly walked towards the bed, making sure not to make a sound. He sits beside Mickey, his right hip touching the sleeping man’s thigh. Gently, he unlaces Mickey’s shoes and takes them off, places them at the foot of the bed. 

Ian lays beside him, his front to Mickey’s back, his right arm extended above his head. He curls his body, his left leg slotting in between the sleeping boy’s slightly parted thighs. Ian places his hand on Mickey’s hip and moves his torso closer, until he can feel the warmth coming out from Mickey’s body. He started to inhale the familiar scent, the scent that he has been searching for, wanting, yearning for the whole night. Ian slid his left arm to Mickey’s stomach, tightening his hold around him. He hooked his chin to the crook of Mickey’s neck, his cheek nuzzling the soft hair at his nape. Ian deepened the spoon, their bodies perfectly fitting together. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs on Mickey’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Mickey.”

They lay on the bed motionless, silent. Ian feels every intake of their breaths, slow, shallow, chests expanding rhythmically. His heart thumped in sync with their breathing, bringing some conscious calmness within him. 

“I promise to be good to you, always be good to you,” he whispers in Mickey’s neck “even if half the time I’m fucking terrified if I’m doing it right everytime I’m with you.” He hid his face further, his warm lips pressing on Mickey’s neck. “But I promise you, Mick. I won’t let you feel that way again. I promise to try and make you happy for as long as you want me to.” His lips lightly brushed the underside of Mickey's jaw, “I think…” his voice shaking, “I’m falling for you.” 

Mickey opened his eyes. He blinked several times, his muddled mind trying to remember the voice he heard, who that voice belongs to. 

“Ian.” He whispered.

The bed creaked and he felt arms and legs moving. The hand from his stomach slides away slowly, going towards the indents of his waist. 

“Mick?”

“You’re here.” He turned around, his feet shuffling until he lay there, face to face with Ian. Mickey pulled his suit jacket over their bodies, Ian’s eyes following his every movement.

“I’m so sorry.” Ian whispered apologetically.

“Okay.” 

“Mick, I’m sorry.”

“I know, Ian. It wasn’t your fault.”

Ian moved closer, his body pressing up against the other man’s front. He watched Mickey’s hand reaching out, his fingertips walking slowly from his shoulder down to his chest. They both stared for a moment, until he felt his lips quiver with the intensity of Mickey’s stare. 

Ian bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling, “I’m so sorry. Please believe me that I never meant to hurt you.” He covers Mickey’s hand with his own, lifting it to his lips, “I swear to you…”

“I won’t deny I didn’t get hurt by what I saw.” Mickey looks down, his thick eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “She’s very beautiful, Ian, and she seemed very nice.” He stroked Ian’s chest, his voice low, like a whisper, he continued, “If I wanted to protect myself, I wouldn’t have come to your party. From the moment I stepped foot inside the restaurant, I knew I had to brace myself for the idea of her.” 

Ian ducked down and kissed their fingertips. Mickey nibbled his bottom lip and then looked at Ian, “When I saw you dancing, I panicked. I honestly didn’t know if I should hide somewhere or run. Brian…”

“Your best friend.”

“Yeah, he said we should leave. Cause he saw... he knew how distressed I was.” 

Ian squeezed their joined hands. 

“He helped me tonight, stayed with me even if I was a fumbling mess.” Mickey snorted, “It wasn’t pretty. But still, he didn't leave me alone.” Mickey sighed, “But all the time I kept on thinking, if you were okay...if you were alright.”

“Mick.”

“Did you even notice if I was gone, did you even try…”

“Mickey,” his green eyes sagged. Ian moved his left hand, sliding it at Mickey’s upper back, pulling him closer, his socked feet wedging in between his ankles. Ian is nervous, he doesn’t even know where to start. “When I saw you looking at us, I...” His lips began to tremble, his voice cracking, “I knew it was a mistake inviting you there. You didn’t need to see that.” He moved closer, until they were chest to chest, faces inches away from each other, “I wanted you to meet her. I don’t know why, but I had this stupid idea that when you saw her with me, you’d know what we have is nothing compared to what me and you have. That maybe you’d understand, and maybe she would also see it.” He swayed closer, the tips of their noses touching, “But it was a mistake, and I can’t….” his voice shaking, “even imagine how you might’ve felt when you saw us like that, like we were some royal couple.” he laughed dryly, his face crumbling, “I’m so sorry.” Ian swallowed the thick saliva that has pooled in his mouth, pushing it down his throat. “I need you to know that I would rather be with you than with any other person in that room.” Silent, pear-shaped tears began rolling down his eyes, sliding from his nose down to the bed, soaking it a bit. He shut his eyes tight, tiny sobs ripping through his chest. Ian pressed his lips to Mickey’s forehead, bringing their bodies closer until all he could feel and breath was Mickey.

Mickey listens, and listens, to all the words Ian is saying, even the ones that he can’t. He knew he wasn’t to blame for all of this. He was just a boy pushed into something he wasn’t ready for. He was just a boy, still a boy, who had just told him he was falling for him. Mickey snaked his hand to Ian’s neck and pulled him down. He kissed his eyebrows, eyes, nose and cheekbones, tasting the saltiness of his tears on his lips. Mickey’s eyes fluttering close, his lips brushing every corner of Ian’s face. “Ssshhh…”

Ian exhaled a big breath, then nodded, pulling their faces closer, wound his arm around Mickey’s body.

“I thought I was going to have a panic attack there, Ian.” Mickey said softly, ”I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breath. But I was just there, sitting, staring at you and I…”

Ian had to say it again, had to make sure Mickey hears it again, “I’m so sorry,” his voice muffled, as his lips touched his temples.

“I’m tired. So tired.”

“Alright, let’s sleep.”

“You staying?”

“Yeah, I’m going to spend the night.”

“But… what about your parents?”

“My dad is pissed drunk, most probably sleeping soundly in the hotel. My mom… she doesn't really care where I go, just as long I come back.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took one of the cars, drove here with Johnson.”

The bed creaked as they moved their bodies, Ian adjusting their limbs, lifting Mickey’s upper body over his chest. 

Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian, his head laying on his chest. He feels his muscles and bones going lax and heavy. He tries to keep his eyes open, blinking several times to keep them from shutting completely.

“Ian,” he murmured.

“Hhhmm?”

“If I asked you to dance, would you dance with me?”

Ian smiled softly, his hand drawing circles on Mickey’s back. He leaned down, and kissed the tops of Mickey’s head, “Of course babe, I would gladly dance with you.”

They inhaled and exhaled, breaths and heartbeats in sync, their bodies getting heavier and heavier, until the warmth and weight of their bodies rendered them helpless to the pull. Each making small movements, hands and fingers twitching, eyes fluttering shut. The rhythm of the soft puffs coming from their opened mouths, slowly dissipating, until all that is there is the call, telling them to succumb to the darkness, until sleep takes over them. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty, this fic is officially my longest fic evah, AaaaAaHHhhhh!!! And I'm not done yet, so sorry if I kept dragging things out. but I swear, this is going somewhere good, maybe even great, I dunno.  
> to whoever is still here, still reading, and maybe enjoying it even, thank you so much.
> 
> *** so that song, Terrified, I love that song. sort of my inspiration for the chapter. if you haven't heard of the song yet, please listen to it, it's really sweet.  
> *** also, for some New Yorkers out there, I totally change the name of the hotel. it's supposed to be 11 Howard and not Le Coucou, cause that's the actual name of the French restaurant, not The Starr. I apologize, that part of the fic, I totes didn't research more of. Man, I hope I didn't confuse you guys, but yeah, just so you'd know in case some of you get to see this beautiful restaurant.  
> *** btw, whoever wants to know, well not that anyone of you asked me about it (so shameless), I'm @piyatot09 on twitter and @missrefridgefreetorator and @iloveredmondsdaddy on Tumblr. teehee.


	16. Under The Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys take a trip outside Manhattan where the moonlight shines the brightest at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I want to wake up with the rain  
> falling on a tin roof  
> While I'm safe there in your arms.  
> So all I ask is for you,  
> To come away with me in the night.  
> Come away with me.
> 
> \- Come Away With Me by Norah Jones

  
  


September 9, 2006

5:20 AM

  
  


Mickey always wakes up a quarter past three in the morning, regardless of the day, whether it be on his work days or days off, it’s always the same, three fifteen in the morning. Normally on a work day, he would get up, check his phone to see if it’s fully charged, go to the bathroom, pee, splash water on his face, go to the kitchen, make coffee, get a protein bar, take coffee inside the bathroom, eat his protein bar while taking a bath, drink the rest of his coffee after his bath, brush his teeth, shave if he needed to (which is not that often, cause he’s almost always beardless. _Fuck you pops, whoever you are_ ), put on deodorant, dress up, put the empty mug in the sink, get his phone, wallet and keys, put on his work boots then he’s out. Everything is done like clockwork, like a routine. 

But this morning, on his off day, he doesn’t have to do that, doesn’t have to get up, to force himself to do anything, doesn’t even have to worry if he’s going to catch the train or not, specially when he found himself pressed against the crook of Ian’s neck, his nose slightly brushing the downy hair of his neck, the scent of his barely there expensive cologne percolating the small passageways of his nose, stimulating the imbedded neuroreceptors in his soft tissues, sending signals to his brain, detecting the odor, identifying it, his brain telling him its the scent of Ian.

_IanIanIan._

There’s totally nothing wrong with that, it’s not as if he hasn’t memorized that smell, that familiar, pleasant, inviting, warm scent. Nope, he can totally resist it. Mickey is alright to not let that odor dissipate and ruin his somewhat normal faculties. It’s not like he’s addicted to it, it’s not like he found himself nuzzling deeper into Ian’s neck, his nose over his slightly sweaty, warm skin, inhaling that smell, his mouth opening a bit, so maybe his mouth can catch that scent, or maybe even taste it. He tightens his hold on Ian’s waist, and hums on his skin.

_IanIanIan._

“Stop that. It tickles.” 

“Do you want me to move?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“But…”

“No, don’t move. I won’t allow you.” Ian wound his arms around Mickey’s back, and moved his body on top of his, hooking his legs on his calves, curling his body tighter at Mickey, like a koala. “Just. stay. right. here.”

“Mmmrrpphhhmmmee.”

“What did you say, mumbles?” He asks, pulling his head away from Mickey’s.

“I need to pee.”

Ian kissed him on his temples, fingers stroking the back of his neck, “Alright, Milkovich. Just because I care so much for your bladder’s well being, I will let you go.” his mouth pouting for emphasis. 

“That’s not fair.”

Ian leans in, trying to catch Mickey’s lips, but his face was swatted away, a hand pushing his mouth’s proximity to Mickey’s plump soft lip.

“No kisses. I have morning breath.”

“Do you really care about that?”

Mickey flinched back, keeping his face away from Ian. He kept his mouth shut in a tight line, his eyebrows furrowing, like he’s thinking deeply. 

“I don't actually, not unless you do.”

“I don’t care.”

Mickey stares at Ian, his eyes still sleep laden, hair sticking out from every direction. He smiled, eyelashes batting against his lids as he blinked. “Okay,” then stretched his neck up, puckering his lips, Ian leaning down to kiss it.

Ian grinned into the kiss, his hand snaking up to Mickey’s neck, firmly holding his head into place, deepening the kiss further.

“Okay,” his nose brushing the tip of Mickey's ear, he murmured, his voice low, like a rasp, “Go pee.”

“I’ll be back.” Mickey kisses Ian one more time before pulling back, moving his body away from the other boy. He walked slowly to his bathroom, tiptoeing his way to the other side of the room. Mickey opened the door and gently closed it without locking it. He flicks on the light and walks in front of the sink, then looks at himself in front of the mirror. With a long exhale, he tries to recall moments of last night, their whispered conversations. There may even be some traces of a dream, he wasn’t sure, but all his memories from a few hours that have passed, came rushing in, his brain pushing one moment first before the others. It was Ian’s words, as if he just heard it, loud and clear... _I think I’m falling for you._ He tried stifling his giggle, holding a hand over his mouth. Mickey suddenly feels giddy. He smiles at his reflection noting a faint tint of blush creeping from his cheeks to the tips of his nose.

_C’mon Mickey, it’s not like he said the L word. Get a grip._

Mickey’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a bit. _What the fuck?_ No, he’s got to stop thinking like that. Not yet. 

He groaned, turning the tap on and splashing water on his face. His hands slightly slapping his face at random places, maybe trying to wake him up, cause maybe he’s still dreaming. _Get a fucking grip, Mickey._ He pulled two sheets of paper towel from the sink, dabbing it to his wet face. His feet took two steps to his right and lifted the lid of the toilet then took a piss. He was still thinking about it, that maybe he should have said something, acknowledged it, or maybe said it back to Ian. But he was not sure if it was right, if he did say it back, maybe it would sound insincere. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the knots in his muscles. 

“Just stop it, Milkovich.” He grumbled, then flushed the toilet. He zips his pants up and is about to go out when he hears soft rapping on the door.

“You okay? You’ve been in there awfully long.”

“Yeah, I’m about to…”

_Ian rolled off the bed a few seconds after Mickey went to the bathroom. He grabbed his phone from the side table and checked for his messages. There was one from his mother and another one from Johnson. He decided on checking on his bodyguard’s message first._

**_1:03 AM:_ ** _Ian, it seemed that you had a good talk with Mickey and decided to stay over for the night. That’s good, I’m proud of you. Call me when you need me to pick you up. Have a good night._

_He smiled at the message, taking note that they are now at the point that they call each other on a first name basis. Ian likes it, he had considered Johnson as family. He then opens his mother’s message._

**_11:15 PM:_ ** _Where are you, Ian? I went to your room and you’re nowhere to be found. Your father and I are planning to go home tomorrow morning. Come back to the hotel before noon._

_Ian took a slow breath in and blew air out from his pursed lips. It would be too early to text his mother, she’s probably sleeping, is still sleeping. He is sure of that. He’d have to remind himself to message her in a few hours, that he’ll be at the hotel by noon. And he for sure doesn’t have any intention of calling Johnson anytime soon. Ian is okay staying here, with Mickey, in the confines of his 60 x 80 inches big bed if possible. Yes, he would want that, please. As long as he can, until he has to return to his reality._

_He noticed Mickey has been gone for sometime, more than necessary. Ian walked toward the bathroom and rapped on the door._

_“You okay? You’ve been in there awfully long.”_

He didn’t hear Mickey saying something back, and he decided, since he’s sort of worried that Mickey may have accidentally dozed off on the floor or worse, passed out, that maybe he should check it out, just to know if he was alright. Ian turned the doorknob clockwise, not expecting it to be unlocked. 

“Hey Mick, you okay?”

Mickey turned, rubbing his hand over his eyes, “Hi.” a soft smile on his lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. You need to pee too?”

He grinned, “Yeah, that and I think I need to maybe wash my face and also borrow a toothbrush if you have an extra?”

“Sure, sure. I got another one right here. Wait up.”

Mickey opened the top drawer, and pulled out three different toothbrushes. “Okay, choose a color.”

He was holding up Red, Green and Purple toothbrushes. Ian sneaked at the toothbrush that was in the holder at the sink and noticed Mickey is using a blue one. He figured, Blue is for Mickey, so he can be Green for Ian. _Cool._ Ian grabbed the green one and wets the head by turning on the tap. 

“Thanks.” 

They both stood by the mirror, looking at their reflections. Mickey grabbed his own toothbrush and decided he could join Ian and brush his teeth as well. He smirked at Ian and got the toothpaste from the holder, squirting pea sized paste on top of the bristles of his toothbrush then to Ian’s. They were both grinning at each other as they scrubbed their teeth slowly, eyes not leaving their reflections. And then it turned into some sort of game, like it was a competition. They started brushing their teeth hard, from their incisors, canines and up to their molars, pulling their tongues out and scrubbing it as well. Both spat foam on the sink at the same time, snickering as their shoulders bumped to get their spit perfectly in the middle. Ian gathered water from his palms and slurped the water, swishing it in his mouth then spit it out, Mickey copying the motion. They were both laughing with how ridiculous they looked in the mirror, white bubbles dripping from their chins and neck.

“Right, so we look really gross. Let me just get a...”

Mickey was about to leave the bathroom when he felt Ian’s hand winding around his wrists, pulling him back. He turned and Ian slid an arm around his waist. They stood within inches from each other, the tips of their socked feet touching. Mickey inching his feet closer, pressing the palm of his right foot on top of Ian’s left foot.

Ian brings his left hand on Mickey’s chin, wiping the white foam by his thumb. He leaned in, sucking a kiss on his lips.

Mickey hummed deeply, eyelashes fluttering as Ian’s face pulled back. “Now you got your shit on my face.”

“My shit looks good on you.”

“Fuck you, now I have your stale spit and foam on me.”

“You’re seriously complaining about that?”

Mickey links his hands around Ian’s neck, pressing his mouth on his lips, his tongue darting at the seam of his parted mouth, “Actually, you smell minty fresh now. Not stale at all.” 

“Hhhmmmm.”

“So…”

“So.”

“You want to…” Mickey pecked the corner of Ian’s mouth, tilting his head and asked, “have breakfast with me?”

Ian smoothed his fingers along Mickey’s cheeks, his thumb brushing his puckered lips, “Yeah,” he exhaled, grinning wider, “I wanna do that.”

  
  


_________ 

  
  


Same day

11:10 AM

  
  
  


Ian exhaled a smooth breath as he looked outside the car window. The ride back to the hotel was fairly quick, only about thirteen minutes since the morning rush had already passed an hour ago. He had called his mother after him and Mickey had their breakfast at a nearby deli and had told him that she’d expect him to be back in a few minutes. The conversation was fairly short, since his mother is apparently still packing and just reminded him to be back before noon. It wasn't as if he wanted his parents out of the city as soon as possible, but he really wanted them to be gone immediately so he could spend more time with Mickey. 

Seven more days, that’s all he had left. That is not enough, would never be enough. It wouldn’t sustain him, never will. Because he had to remember, has to remember what it’s like to fall for a boy so deeply, so truly. All he’s got is seven more days before he leaves for college. Ian has got to make it worth it.

He walked inside the suite all relaxed and dopey, like he had just smoked a joint. A slow grin started to spread on his face as he saw his reflection in the mirror. _Fuck, is this what it feels like?_ Ian smiled to himself, he kind of liked it. Feeling like this. It was the best morning he’s had in awhile. Damn it, actually if he truly wants to be honest with himself, this morning is the best he’s had in his entire life. 

“Ian.”

Ian’s eyes widened with the sound of his mother’s voice, his feet halting at the entryway of the living room. She was sitting on the wide Brussel beige linen french sofa, her left leg crossed over her right. His mother didn’t grace him with a look, her eyes firmly on the New York post. He sighed, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to school it into something more desolate.

“Have you seen your photos with Olivia on page six?”

Ian raised an eyebrow, and it took a nanosecond before he realised what his mother’s question was about. So there were photographs of him and Olivia last night and were in the local paper. _Jesus._ He turned to Johnson who was standing behind him holding his coat and made an audible sigh. Ian held out his hand and took the coat from him. 

Johnson kicked his shoe, stopping him from making an eye roll. “Ian.” Johnson said lowly, with gritted teeth. “Don’t.”

Ian’s eyes crinkled, trying to hide a smile. He faked a cough then said, “Thank you, Johnson.” His shoulders rising a little. Ian blinked at him then turned around walking further into the room. 

“Missus Gallagher.”

“Thank you, Johnson. Tell Peter we need to be at the airport by two in the afternoon.

“Yes, Ma’m.” Johnson glanced at Ian, nodding, “Sir Ian,” then left the room.

Ian took a deep breath and braced himself for the conversation. He felt the muscles of his leg briefly spasming as he took a few steps going to the living room, like his body was hesitating to move. He looked at his mother’s face offering a small smile. 

“Uhm...” then gave her a kiss on the cheek replying, “No, mom. Never had a chance to.” as he sits on her left. 

“You both look lovely. Olivia’s dress is just exquisite.”

“Yes it was.”

“It’s a shame they had to go back to Long Island last night. We all would’ve had breakfast together with the Schwarzmans.”

Ian remained silent, his face looking forward, gazing at nothing. 

“Do you want to come home with us?”

“I…” he shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, “I’ve got a lot of things to take care of first. Need to get everything sorted out before I go to Connecticut next week.”

“Oh that reminds me, do you want to take the jet or would you rather have Peter drive you?”

“It’s just a short drive, mom. I can actually drive going there.”

“Nonsense, I don't want you stressing on your first night in your new apartment. Johnson can stay with you for a few days until…”

“I don’t think that is necessary.”

“Ian,” His mother said forcefully, “I know how hard it is being alone in a new environment. You need to keep your apartment clean and organized.”

“I know mom.” Ian said softly.

“And besides, I don’t want Olivia to think you’re a slob when she comes over your place sometime,” she says, with a flicker of amusement on her eyes. “I can have a cleaning lady stay in your apartment if you want.”

“No,” Ian says quickly, “I would rather have Johnson stay with me if that’s the case.”

“So it’s settled then. I’ll have Johnson stay with you through the course of the semester.”

Ian grunts, “Don’t you think having a bodyguard stay with me can attract unnecessary attention in school?”

His mother talks over him, like she wasn’t expecting him to say anything, “Johnson can stay in one of the rooms in your apartment. You won’t even notice him once school starts. I just want to make sure you’ve got somebody there to keep you safe and in line.”

_In line?_ What does she mean by that, Ian thought. This is turning into a nightmare and college hasn't even started yet. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried evening out his breathing, holding his breath for a few seconds before releasing it slowly through his pursed lips.

“It's not like I’ll be doing anything crazy there, mom. I just want,” he said, his jaws tensing, “to be able to do things on my own.” Ian sighed, feeling that this is his only moment to defy something in his life. “I want to at least have some sort of independence.” 

“You are a Gallagher, Ian. Wherever you go, you will definitely attract attention, whether you like it or not. Johnson will stay with you during the whole tenure of your stay at Yale. End of discussion,” his mother says, her voice loud and stern. She didn’t leave her eyes at Ian’s face when she continued, “Go freshen up, Ian. We are going to have lunch at the Starr in fifteen minutes.” She stands up abruptly and leaves the room, Ian eyes following his mother’s movements. 

He noticed six big leather pieces of luggage by the wall at the corner of the room. He glares at them, like he’s willing his mind to make them go away, to disappear. And he wanted his parents to go away with these luggage right away too, if possible.

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  


September 12, 2006

2:08 PM

  
  


Twenty minutes, it has been twenty minutes since he had asked Mickey to get his application form from his apartment. He even texted Mickey to hurry up since they had to get his paperwork in at the admissions office at NYC College of Technology before it closes at five in the afternoon. Brian was sitting at the table near the big staircase of the Muhlenberg Library with the intention of Mickey finding him quickly once he came in from the entrance. He kept checking on his watch. _Fuck, twenty five minutes._ He’s been waiting for Mickey for twenty five minutes when the library is only seven minutes away from his best friend’s apartment. 

His thoughts were interrupted by loud hurried steps from his right, making him turn around and say, “Fucking finally!” 

“Sorry, sorry. Ian called and I had to take it.” Mickey lays a couple of manila envelopes on the table before sitting across from Brian.

“Hadn’t you already talked to him when I picked you up from the train station a while ago?” Brian grabbed one of the envelopes and pulled out some papers.

“Yeah, but he said it was important. He was,“ he checked on his phone before putting it inside his pocket, “inviting me to go somewhere.”

“On a date?” Brian drags his chair closer to Mickey so they could sit side by side. 

“No, he said somewhere outside Manhattan.”

“Where, Brooklyn, Jersey, Staten Island? That’s technically out of Manhattan too, Mick.” Brian narrows his eyes at the application form. 

“I have no idea, but he said, we’ll be gone for the whole weekend.”

“Shit, are you gonna disappear somewhere or something? Change your names to Ivan and Mattheo?,” he waggled his eyebrows then read Mickey's answers, double checking if he missed filling out some boxes. “Hey, did you go to the FASFA website? You got to apply for a financial aid, man. Architecture can be expensive.”

“Yeah, got into it yesterday. They sent an e-mail this morning.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” 

Brian brought out Mickey’s letters of recommendation, one from the manager where his father and Mickey works at and another from a social worker which his friend has been in contact with since he’s moved from California to New York. 

“Maybe you guys can get some tattoos?”

“Wha... where is this coming from?” Mickey snorted, “No.” 

“Well that's cute though, getting a couple tattoos.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Listen, let’s just concentrate on this first, alright Brian. Want to read my essay? ”

“Let’s have it.”

**_Essay Question:_ **

**_What are the core skills and knowledge you hope to acquire by completing a degree in this major and how do you plan to apply these when you graduate?_ **

_Over the last two years, I have acquired an interest in art forms, design structures, construction, the methods and science behind it. Where I grew up, working in construction is what is expected from a boy living in a neighborhood that considers higher education as an unattainable dream, that getting a job that only requires brawn over brains as the status quo. I have never had a father figure to teach me tools, skills to maneuver life effectively, what I instead had was a life of changes, jumping from one foster family to the next since the age of nine years old. That is the life I know, life of constant adjustments and sacrifice._

_I was the one who taught myself to live and survive. Since the age of eleven, I have worked in various jobs, jobs that can sustain me, nourish me in the brutal and unforgiving environment l live in. Five years is what it took for me to perfect that technique of using my physicality and smarts as means to work, to earn money, and I am thankful of that, that those experiences made me want to do more, make something out of myself on my own. And I want to move ahead, to get out of my comfort zone and reveal my full potential._

_My application to your college is my means to get the appropriate knowledge to hone my interests in design, and constructions of buildings, to build better environments for everyone. I am aware I have not been involved in any volunteer work, attended any classes related to architecture or gotten involved in any activities related to such, but I believe my enthusiasm to learn, to be truly educated in the field of Architecture can be my own personal fuel to gain knowledge and skills to be a good architect. I want to make the world an aesthetically better place to live in, make it a lot safer, functionable and sustainable. I believe, being accepted in your college will immensely help my unattainable dream be attainable by becoming an architect._

“Damn, Mick. This is good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. This is… Shit, Mick. I’m so proud of you.” Brian gives him a side hug, “Fuck, if they don’t accept you at NYCCT, I will fucking riot.”

“Jesus, calm down. We still have…” Mickey checks his phone, “An hour and a half before the deadline.”

“I think we’ve got everything you need.” Brian places all of the papers neatly in one of the manila envelopes. He looked over his shoulder, and smiled at his friend. Brian knew from the start when he had first met Mickey that he was a smart boy, much smarter than Mickey even realized. He was happy that he got to witness this, this Mickey who is hopeful, who is a dreamer, who is a survivor. Brian squeezes Mickey’s shoulders, his eyes darting up to meet his face, “Alright, you ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Mickey sighed and brushed his hands together. This is it. He never imagined doing this, like making a life altering decision. Alright, maybe trusting Ian is another, but this, _This._ He can’t even remember what compelled him to do it, to get his GED and ask Van for help. It was a stroke of luck that he completed it, passed it even. Mickey knew what would come after this would change his life forever. His could haves, would haves and should haves about going back to school, will be erased once he gets his application in. _Fuck, this is it._ “Yeah, let’s go.”

  
  


_________ 

September 13, 2006

7:10 PM

  
  


Ian is nervous.

It had started when his parents left a few days ago. He had been trying to think of ways he could make the last remaining days he had with Mickey memorable, lasting. Lasting enough that it can be enough for him to survive being without him for a few months, until he gets to see Mickey again during winter break. That is, if his parents don’t decide to spend it somewhere out of the country, thousands of miles away. He had been reading a travel magazine, it was about this island, a ferry ride away from the metro. He had kept reading, looking at all the pictures, all the possible things to do in the island, this getaway place. As his mind whirled around all of the information, he started devising plans as to how to make everything that needs to be done possible in just two days. They’ve got forty eight hours together, and god damn it, his plan should fucking work.

Ian glanced at the table beside his bed and smiled. He grabbed his phone, nibbling his bottom lip between his teeth. He unlocked it and punched 2 on his speed dial.

“Hey,” Ian said, his voice low like a whisper.

“Hey.”

“Are you about to go to sleep?”

“No, I still have a couple of hours.”

“Okay.” Ian lays on the bed, his front facing the window.

Outside, the moon shone brighter than usual. It gives this strong diffusing glow to the darkened sky, it’s light pouring into the city, then creeps slowly, until it spills into his room, its rays bathing him from his exposed face and chest. It is still awfully humid tonight, but Ian would rather have his window open than have the AC on. He likes watching the sky, especially if he’s alone and lonely. The moonlight served as his companion sometimes, his only friend when he knows he can’t go somewhere, be with somebody. It took him two days to plan the trip, even making itineraries for the both of them. _Fuck, is forty eight hours really is enough?_ This has got to work.

“I’ll be picking you up at two tomorrow, okay.”

“Yeah, got my bags packed and ready.”

Ian smiled at the ceiling as his body turned, his back resting on the mattress. He crossed his ankles and brushed the heel of his left foot on his shin. Ian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes alight as his mind wandered to the possibilities of what is to come. Him and Mickey going on an adventure together this weekend. And he can’t wait.

“Do I need to bring something else, like my bike or my passport maybe?”

“Passport?” Ian said, a high lilt in his voice. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Mick.” he snickers, “No, a swimsuit if you have one? If not, I’m sure there's a store that sells one. Where we are going to, you’ll definitely need a swimsuit.”

“Look,” Mickey said tightly, “You never mentioned where we are going, okay. Just wanted to make sure since I don’t know what you rich kids consider as doing something fun during the weekend.”

“Uhm, it depends actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one how much time there is to do a trip, if it's doable with driving or flying. Second, is who I’m going with.”

“You don’t think about how much money you’ll be spending?”

“No, because most often than not, whenever I go somewhere, they’d just check on my ID, that’s it. It’s the perks of being the grandson of Arthur James Gallagher.”

“Hhmmm... Must be nice to live like that.“

“Sometimes, yeah,” Ian said softly, “It can be nice sometimes to just be normal too.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, go somewhere where people don't necessarily know me or my family.”

“Uhm, I don’t think you’ll like it though…being ordinary.”

“You’d be surprised what I would like other than all of this.”

They both became silent, like they were both trying to soak everything in. The disparity between them. One who is an aristocrat who is set for life, no worries about the world, his name his only ticket to wherever he goes, while the other is a nobody who lives life one paycheck to another, but both are feeling each other’s anxiety running through their veins, nervous and excited energy all at the same time, heard clearly through their expired breaths. 

“So, uhm… just wanted to tell you I got my application in for NYCCT yesterday.” Mickey smacks his lips, “and it seems I just have to wait for my application for my financial aid to be granted,” he groans, “I've been waiting for an e-mail since Tuesday.”

“What course did you apply for again?”

“Architectural technology.”

“It’s for this fall semester right?”

“Yeah, haven’t I told you this before?”

“Yeah, I… I remember. Just wanted to make sure I got the information right.”

“Okay.”

“So,” he cleared his throat, “Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.” 

“Two o’clock,” Ian said gruffly.

“Ian, I know.”

“Just making sure you remember.”

“How could I possibly forget, Ian. We’ve been talking about this for three days now, duh?” Mickey chuckled softly.

Ian pressed his lips together, trying to stifle his laugh. “You’re a jerk sometimes, you know.”

“I am told I am smart sometimes.”

Ian glanced back at the sky. ”Yeah, operative word... sometimes.” he snickered.

“Ha. Well, aren’t you such a shitface, Ian.”

Ian laughed then licked his lips, “Okay, I deserve that,” he said, an amused tone in his voice. 

“So,” Mickey mutters.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Ian hurriedly said.

“Me too.”

“So… so you need to sleep now, right?” 

“Apparently so.” Mickey yawns, his voice sounding muffled like he had a hand over his mouth, “My brain can only withstand so much smartness in a day. Need to recharge.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, uhm… don’t yet,” Mickey said softly, his voice going low, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What is it, Mick?”

“Well I… just want to thank you for planning this surprise trip for us. No one has ever done this for me before, and I, uhmm…” Ian could imagine the smile stretching across Mickey’s face, “very flattered for making me feel special.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“You’re actually not gonna tell me where we are going huh?”

“Nope, sorry, it’s a surprise, remember?”

“Oh god, you’re not renting out an island or have Chris Martin serenade us while we’re having dinner right?”

“Nope, but you know what, come to think of it, I could maybe make a quick call and have The Backstreet Boys sing _I Want it That Way_ complete with choreography during our make out sessions.” 

“Fuck you, Gallagher,” Mickey giggly said.

“I think you would like that, actually.”

“Don’t you dare,” he huffs.

“No,” Ian quietly said, “It’s going to be fun. We’re going to have fun, I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

Ian grinned, “Hhhmmmm, thank you and I do you too, by the way.”

Mickey hums, “Thanks. So… see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he said slowly, trying to drag out the words. “Good night, Mickey.”

“Good night.”

“Uhm… yeah, I’ll hang up now.”

“Okay.”

“ ‘kay.”

**_*CLICK_ **

_________

  
  
  


September 14, 2006

4:58 PM

  
  


_“Last call for the five o’clock trip to Shelter Island. We request for passengers to go to the main deck and not stay at the car decks for safety and security purposes. There is a refreshment area in front of the first class passenger rooms, and we encourage all guests to get their complimentary drinks for the trip. We will be closing the doors of the loading dock in a couple of minutes. Thank you.”_

Ian may have broken a few traffic rules for them to catch the five o’clock trip at the North ferry, and damn it, they’re not gonna miss it and settle on getting the next trip out of the city. He had made reservations for them tonight, and if they missed the five o’clock ferry ride, his itinerary for the night would be fucked. It usually takes three hours to drive from Manhattan to Greenport, and that is without traffic. Of course, since it is a Friday, there would definitely be traffic and Ian was not having it. 

“Wait, Ian,” Mickey says, squeezing their joined hands between them as Ian drags him up the main deck, stomping his feet like he’s having a tantrum. He furrowed his eyebrows, watching Ian become this big angry baby as he swiftly dodged the people, cursing under his breath if they didn't move fast enough. He chuckles as he pulls him hard in one of the turns, “Hey, ease up, Speedy Gonzales. What are we in a hurry for? We’re literally already inside the boat, Ian”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry,” Ian squeezed back, “We just got to get some seats before the ferry leaves.” 

It was like Ian was on a mission. He wanted Mickey to have the full experience this weekend. He’s got to sweep him off his feet and make this experience linger. 

“Aha, here we go,” Ian stealthily moves them at the front of the boat where there are fewer seats found. Actually, where he really wanted to go is the lone seat that is almost at the lip of the boat, a 2 x 4 feet steel bench that has the best view of the sea. He touches the surface of the bench, making sure it's not too warm for them to sit at, “Perfect.”

“Oh wow. This is nice, Mister Gallagher. Not too shabby, sir.“

“Fuck, isn’t it beautiful?”

Mickey held the iron railing tightly as they sat on the bench, his eyes drinking the sight of the vast sea. The ferry was moving away from the docks slowly, churning unsteadily at first, but after a few seconds, he felt the boat make a smooth glide into the sea. It seemed the water was perfectly calm tonight, the waves appeared as gentle ripples across the blue sea. The wind blows softly around them, caressing their faces and exposed arms cooly. It was still warm in the late afternoon, yet Mickey felt the mix of the humid air and somewhat salty breeze calming. 

“Yeah, it’s beautiful Ian. How much longer until we get there?”

“To Shelter Island? Maybe ten, twelve minutes.”

“How did you find out about this place?”

“I sort of live a few minutes away from this island. My family home is in Long Island, like in the Hamptons.”

“Okay.”

“We used to take a boat coming here, cause my dad wanted to build a hotel on the island, but the council members kept rejecting my father’s proposals. So yeah, from my actual house to Shelter Island is probably five-six minutes away.” Ian sighs, then continues, “the house in the Hamptons is from my grandfather. It was actually a wedding gift for my parents. It’s supposed to be a family home, but we don’t usually stay there for long periods of time. So technically, it’s not a home since I live in hotels most of the time.”

“Were you travelling a lot?”

“A bit, but it was mostly company trips and they would let me tag along since no one would be left with me at home. It’s more convenient for my parents to just bring me wherever and whenever and have Johnson and my nanny Emilia with me.”

Mickey looked at Ian’s profile, trying to guess what he’s feeling. He reached out and stroked his forearm, fingers slightly grazing the bones of his wrist.

“That can be… lonely.”

Ian exhaled and dropped his head back, looking at the sky. “It can be, yeah. But I learned how to entertain myself from an early age, when I knew I’d probably be an only child. It was hard at first, but Emilia and Johnson helped me a lot. They’re like family to me, even if Johnson initially worked as my father’s bodyguard before I was born.”

“Well, I’m glad you have them, although you’ve never talked about Emilia before, not until now.” 

Ian’s face shifted, his jawline straightened, his voice low when he spoke again, “She was let go a couple of years ago. This was the time when my parents announced my engagement to Olivia.”

“Oh,” Mickey said slowly.

“Emilia has been my nanny since I was born, like I was practically in her care since day one.” Ian continues, “Since we traveled a lot, I would spend most of my time with her. She would play with me, allow me to watch whatever cartoons there were on television. There was even a time her children came by our house, just before Emilia left for her days off and we would play for hours before they eventually had to leave with their Emilia. They did that maybe twice, three times a month, like visiting the house? They became my only friends growing up.”

“You don’t have other friends?" 

“No, no chance to be friends with anybody, since I always have to be pulled out from school when we have to go somewhere.” Ian shrugs, “I think it’s better like that, so I won’t miss out on people. And it’s hard having a connection with other children when you’re always away, you know? I think... I’m better on my own.”

“Where is Emilia now?”

“She’s in Brooklyn, with her family. Heard she’s taking care of her grandchildren.” Ian laughs softly, “Johnson visits her sometimes, and he told me she’s doing good.”

“You miss her?”

Ian sighs, “A lot.”

“I hope… maybe sometime, we could visit her.” Mickey sliding his hand over Ian’s, “I would like to meet her very much.”

Ian shifted his gaze from the sky to Mickey’s face,” Yeah, I would like that too.”

  
  


_________

Same day

5:35 PM

“What do you think?”

Mickey was looking at a 4.3 acre lush marshland. In the middle of the property is a 15,000 square foot shingle, three-storey Colonial house that overlooks Gardiner's Bay. The house looks totally separate from the rest of Shelter Island, like a hidden oasis. It was like Mickey was brought back to the 1920s. Everything about the mansion, the grandness of it, the rustic feel, and the antiquity of it was captured perfectly. 

_The Ram’s Head Inn_ is conveniently built facing the beach and has a spacious lawn with rows of Adirondack chairs. He noticed that the land where the chairs were placed was sloped, just like in an arena where all the attention of the spectators would be in one point. In this case, it is the blue sea before them. Alas, it seems the placement of the chairs are perfect for guests to watch the sunrise or sunset by the beach front. He also sees a quaint gazebo almost perpendicular to the large house that overlooks the harbor, its docks are filled with small sailboats, probably for locals and tourists who would wish to sail the sea. Adjacent to the dock are chaise lounge chairs, kayaks and paddleboards that are offered complimentary to all guests, says the signage he saw at the dock. 

Everything from the outside looks beautiful, serene, tranquil.

“Oh my god.”

“Wait 'til you get inside. C’mon.”

Upon entering the lobby, Mickey made a slow scan of the room, his eyes going up and down, left to right, feeling awed at the vast space before him. The lobby was covered by golden wood floor panels, its ceiling about eighty feet with a big chandelier at the center. A big rectangular Persian rug covers the entryway leading to the long straight staircase. On his right is a cherry wood lobby desk where a woman was stationed. He sneaks a peek at the room on his left. In it are a couple of white sofas and a rectangular oak wood center table that faces a brick style fireplace. There is an elderly couple lounging in it, with wine flutes on their hands. The man raises his glass at him, giving him a small smile.

“Hi, gentlemen.”

Mickey jerked at the sound of the woman’s voice.

“My name is Linda. Can I have your names?”

Ian offers his hand to Linda, “Hi, I am Ian Gallagher and this is Mickey Milkovich.”

“Alright, Perfect. I got your reservation for Room 17. It’s on the third floor, last door to your left. Here are your keys,” she singsongs as she hands Ian the item. “Would you like some help with your bags?”

“No, we got it.” Mickey said with a silent laugh. “We only got a couple of backpacks with us. We’re cool. Thank you.”

“Cool. Alrighty then.” Linda claps her hand then grabs something on top of her desk. She gives a menu pamphlet to Ian then says, “So we have an outdoor restaurant that is open from seven in the morning until eleven in the evening,” she said with a smile. “Please feel free to call the desk if you have any requests or questions. Have a good rest of the day, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Linda. We will.”

Ian pressed his right hand to the small of Mickey’s back and nudged him forward. “Let’s go up and come down quick. We have to hurry. We, uhmm...” He puffed a small breath, “I wanna watch something with you.”

Mickey slowly turned his face to Ian, “You sap. You wanna watch the sunset huh?”

Ian tilted his head sideways, “You don’t want to?”

“You know I love that shit.”

“I know, I know. So, we're just gonna stand here or are we gonna try and catch the sunset, Milkovich?”

Mickey bites his lip and hikes up the straps of his backpack. He gives Ian a playful grin, “Race you upstairs, firecrotch.”

  
  


________

Same day

7:01 PM

  
  


“Do you know what you’re having?” Mickey asks Ian, his eyes darting from right to left of the menu. “I don’t know which to choose.”

“Maybe we’ll start with the Bibb Lettuce salad,” Ian said, elbows leaning on the table. “Then maybe for the main course, the Long Island Crescent Duck Confit? I’ve heard this tastes incredible. Wait, but do you eat duck or trout though, Mick? Or maybe Rabbit by any chance?”

“I won’t be eating no bunny, Ian. What the fuck?” Mickey scoffed, his hands quickly turning the menu from to the other side. 

“Oh, Mickey. They’re not serving bunnies here, they’re full grown Californian rabbits that are like bred to be eaten. Rabbits actually taste like chicken. You want to try it?”

“Well, I don’t care if these rabbits taste like KFC or Popeye's. I refuse to eat a goddamn rabbit even if Britney fucking Spears says it’s the best tasting chicken she’s ever had.”

Ian burst out laughing, his back hitting the back of his chair, “Okay, babe. Didn’t mean to rile you up. I’m just teasing,” he grabbed Mickey’s hand and held it on top of the table. “Okay, I’ll have the duck and you’ll get the... trout? Lamb?”

Mickey huffs, his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed, icy blue cutting through the humid air.

“Trout.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that hard, right? So, trout. You sure you don’t wanna try just a tiny bit of the rabbit?”

“No,” Mickey said stubbornly then kicked Ian’s shin. “It’s not funny, ginger.”

“Oww,” Ian said wincing but with a wide smile on his face, “C’mere,” he said happily, then reached out and cupped Mickey’s face. “Alright, I’m gonna stop now. You’re just too cute when you're all grumpy and angry,” pinching his cheeks, then pecked Mickey’s lips lightly, “too cute.”

They were seated at the back porch, overlooking the backyard and the beach. The lights from the moon and stars bouncing off the calm waters. There is a distant sound of jazz music playing in the background, making the right kind of ambiance in the evening. Ian lets the ambient music soak for a few seconds. There’s only a few people outside, Ian guesses maybe three groups of people, two of which are couples like them. The lights on the porch were dimmed low, a few teacup candles scattered randomly on their table to help illuminate the food. If Ian would describe the setting, the most accurate thing that he could think of is, this is fucking romantic. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself.

He blinked twice looking wide eyed at Mickey, his mouth agape. Mickey was obviously still looking at the menu, brows furrowing as he says every dessert listed.

_He can’t believe this is happening._

Ian shakes his head lightly, trying to think of every occurrence of the last few weeks that led him here. He felt his face warming up, his breathing slow and deep. There is something fluttering, dancing in his chest and it took him a few seconds to realize it was his heart and it’s telling him, urging him to listen. 

_Can you hear me, can you feel me beating?_ _I'm right here, stupid. Don’t fucking ignore me._

There is tightness in his throat down to his chest, like he was breathless, like there’s not enough oxygen in his lungs. Ian feels lightheaded.

“Mickey.” Ian exhaled.

“Yeah, okay. I think I want the caramelized walnut tart for dessert.” Mickey says, his eyes never leaving the menu. “Yup. I want that, Ian.”

“Mick.” Ian whimpers, his hand clutching his chest. 

“Oh shit, Ian.” Mickey stepped out of his chair, his foot almost tripping on one of the legs of the table. “Ian, what is happening?” he pulled a chair from another table and dragged it beside Ian’s. “I don’t even want the caramelized walnut tart, okay. We can order something else.” Mickey ran a hand over his back up to his neck. “Ian, I swear to god. I don’t even like walnuts.” 

“I…” He kept his eyes shut, his lips moving making silent noises.

“Ian, what did you say?”

Ian opened his eyes and flickered to Mickey’s face. His eyes firm, steady. He licked his bottom lip and said softly, “I love you.”

Mickey gasped, his eyes going wide. 

Ian lifted one of his hands and reached out to Mickey's hand that was frozen on his neck. He pulls it down to his lap and entwines their hands together. 

“Did you hear what I just said? I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey’s lips twitched. His body’s momentary paralysis seemed to dissipate as his brain’s natural biological function began to come back. He knew his ears had heard it right. Knew the words, maybe had daydreamed for Ian to say it to him for some time. And yet here he is, literally tongue tied and utterly speechless.

“Mick?”

“I…” _He can’t believe this is happening._

“Hhmm?” Ian leaned in, eyes not leaving Mickey’s face.

Mickey stared back, eyes fervent, honest.

“I… me too. I love you too, Ian.”

Ian stared back at Mickey, emerald Green on brilliant Blue. Their faces merely inches from each other, until he decided that he had to lean in, capture a kiss on Mickey's plush lips. A small grunt escaped Mickey’s lips as his mouth pressed in further, his hand running at the back of his neck, steadying him. Mickey gripped the front of his shirt, their bodies pressing closer.

“Uh Hum.” 

Mickey broke the kiss with a grin on his face. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and looks up to the intruder, the waiter who was standing awkwardly beside them. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, boys,” amusement flickering on the waiter’s face, “But are you guys ready to order?” 

They glanced back at each other, Mickey’s eyes bright scanning over Ian’s face.

“Uhm, I think, we’ll just order room service. I can just tell you what we would like from the menu.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be right over there by the bar,” he gives them a pen and piece of paper, “and just give me the list when you’re done.” The waiter then winked at them before walking away.

“You wanna continue this upstairs?” Ian said with a smirk on his face.

“Hhmmmm, make out session number two.”

“Wait, you’re counting them?”

“Yeah, aren’t you?”

“Okay, hold on. How is it just two when we made out at the pub on our first date?”

“That is not a date, Ian.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, I don’t think so. If I remembered it right, we were just going out for a drink, like a ‘thank you for saving my life’ kind of drink. And I specifically said that it was not a date.”

“Okay, you’re full of shit. That’s definitely a date, and that’s the first time we even kissed, Mickey!”

“Oh my god, Ian. We don’t even know each other’s names then. That is definitely not a date!”

“Are we seriously fighting over this?”

“Are we even fighting? We are just bantering like any normal adults.”

“Argh, you know what? I don’t even…” Ian writes down their orders on the piece of paper and hastily stands up from the chair and drags Mickey with him. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to fucking kiss you and make out with you until you agree with me that _That_ is our first fucking date and we’ve made out plenty more times than twice.”

_________

  
  


Same day

11:11 PM

  
  


“Holy fuck. I don’t think I can eat any more.”

“Remind me to order this again next time.” Ian loosens his grip at Mickey’s waist as he reaches out to the side table placing the take out box on its surface. “This tart is really good.”

Mickey wiggled backwards, his head hitting Ian's shoulder, “Sorry.”

“Here, let me…” Ian shifted his ass further back, his shoulders hitting the headboard, pulling Mickey with him. He tightens his grip on his waist, flattening his hand near the indents of his hips. Mickey turned his head, and kissed the side of Ian’s jaw. 

They’ve been in the same position for more than an hour now, spooning with Mickey’s back on Ian’s chest, eating their dessert languidly. It was already deep into the night, the silver rays of the moon shining through the skylight, diffusing soft illumination through their darkened room. They were a fumbling mess the moment they got inside their room. All limbs and lips as they aimlessly tried to get on the bed. Ian was not letting Mickey have it, having that idea that they have only made out twice. _Twice._ First was the pub kiss as Alek and Clayton. _Alek and Clayton._ Wow, that seemed like a lifetime ago, he thought. Both of them are still hesitant to say the truth about themselves, afraid their truths will ruin what they had then. And, the nerve of Mickey to forget about their park kiss. Jesus fucking Christ, he almost popped a boner that night, had to reach deep inside himself to stop it, to not make it awkward for them. So that makes four, four make out sessions. He wanted to, needed to hear Mickey make those beautiful sounds, while he ravished his lips, making it plumper than usual, to the point that it probably would bruise tonight. And he doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all if people see how much he liked it. 

“What are you thinking?”

Ian hummed, hugging Mickey with his legs. “I feel like taking a swim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey tilted his head back, his hair brushing Ian’s jawline. Ian looked down at him, his hand smoothing over Mickey’s chest. 

Ian plants a soft kiss on his lips, “You wanna go now?”

“Sure.” Mickey’s ass shifted, he turned his head, lips brushing the side of Ian’s lips. He brought his hand up, curling it on the side of Ian’s neck and grabbed the ends of Ian’s hairline. Mickey smiled as Ian tilted his head towards him, capturing his lips. Mickey made a sound that ignited something again on Ian. He began pressing his lips harder, his mouth opening to suck on Mickey’s lower lip. Mickey inhaled, opening his mouth a bit. Ian takes that chance to glide his tongue inside his mouth, probing, searching for Mickey’s taste. Their faces were tilting back and forth, tongues sliding in and out. Everything is becoming heated again, Mickey pulling himself higher, his arm looping around Ian’s back. He was almost sitting on Ian’s left thigh, his body angled in such a way that his right knee was hitting the upper part of Ian’s right thigh. Ian’s hand gripped Mickey’s nape to guide him, steady him, syncing their movements. Mickey made another sound, Ian almost going delirious of it. He growled.

“Fuck, you make me so hot.”

“Me too,” Mickey pecking the corner of his mouth. 

“Shit, do you still wanna go out for a swim or stay here and make out?” Ian gripped Mickey's body tighter, his face smashed on the crook of his neck.

“We already did that,” Mickey nuzzled his cheek on Ian’s ear, “I wanna go for a swim.” He whispered against his hair, “I feel so hot and sticky all of a sudden.”

“Okay, fuck. Okay. I really have to let you go right?” He tried to lift Mickey’s body up, but his hand accidentally bunched his shirt up to his ribs, exposing a long line of smooth, fair skin.

_Jesus._

“You have got to stop that or we’re not gonna make it to the beach.” Mickey giggles, his body arching up to hug Ian. 

“Shit, alright.” He pushes Mickey’s body away from him, eliciting a laugh from the other man. He scooted his body farther from the bed, his right foot hitting the floor. “I’m up. I’m up. I got to change into something beachy.”

“Beachy?”

“Like shorts or something. We can’t swim in these clothes?”

“Who says so?”

Ian looked at the clothes he’s wearing. He’s got on a grey t-shirt under a red plaid short sleeved flannel, blue jeans and white socks. Mickey was wearing a brown t-shirt under a blue hoodie and also clad in his denim jeans. _They can’t swim in these?_

“You want us to swim with our jeans on? Are you serious, Mickey?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk Ian. You got to be creative, man.” Mickey stood up from the bed, took off his socks and walked towards Ian. “C’mon, Gallagher.” he grabbed his wrist, “I wanna go for a swim.” 

The sky looked brilliant that night. In the distance, Ian could see the chaise lounge chairs arranged in two rows in front of the beach, some discarded paddle boards and a fire pit which has the signs of ember in it, casting faint reddish glows in the somewhat dimmed, desolate place. He scanned the beach for other guests that probably had the same idea, of probably doing a night swim. It was actually deserted, he noticed, just him and Mickey slowly going down the beach front.

He chanced a look at Mickey who is currently taking his hoodie off, putting it on one of the chairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my clothes off.”

“What?”

“We’re going for a swim right? We can’t possibly swim with our clothes on, duh?” Mickey stifled a laugh as he lifted his shirt off his head. 

Ian blinked at him, his eyes round, mouth hanging open. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing labored, his skin tingling, like it's on fire. Ian watches as Mickey slowly unbuttons his jeans, one two, three, four popping sounds echoing in his ears. He swivels his hips from side to side until the jeans reach his thighs, his pants dropping naturally by gravity on the sand. Ian could see every strong muscle on Mickey’s back and thighs, the ample swell of his ass, the downy hair on his skin as it catches the light from the moon. 

He feels breathless, hot and sweaty. His clothes seemed to fuel some sort of intense heat from his body. There is a tightness in his belly, a small grunt escaping his lip. There is a spark within him, to act, to free himself of this miserable pleasure. He sees Mickey hooking his thumb inside the elastic waistband of his boxers, and in one swift motion of his hips, he stands naked in front of Ian. 

“You coming or not?” Mickey’ said smirking. His blue eyes lit like the stars that moment, like Ian had never seen them glow like that before. He smiled at him happily, blissful and genuine, and Ian would never, ever want that sight gone, ever.

“Fuck. Y-eah, yeah. Fuck.” He scrambled to take off his clothes, not even minding where each garment hit what on the sand. He just got to… _Fuck._ He just wants to get his damn clothes off himself.

Mickey ran to the beach as soon as his boxers hit the sand, laughing as he sprinted towards the beach. The moment his feet touched the water, he jumped in, his face hitting the water. He shivered, not realizing how cold it would get deep into the night.

He sucked in a breath and shouted as he resurfaces, “Fuck,” his body trembling with the coldness.

Ian ran after Mickey, bouncing slightly as he tried to catch up to him. He stumbled a bit when his feet kissed the cold water of the sea, momentarily stopping on his heels as his body tried to acclimatize with the change of temperature. Slowly, he dips his feet into the water, one step at a time until the sea soaked his body up to his chest. He reaches Mickey, a couple of feet away from him, his back to him, looking at the horizon, his skin glistening like a beautiful sea creature of the night.

“Hi.”

Mickey turned and smiled blindingly at Ian. He slowly strode closer to Ian, their chests almost bumping, faces mere inches away from each other. 

“You good?” Mickey said with a small smile on his face. “You okay with this?”

Ian took another step, his hands reaching out, pulling Mickey closer, their bodies pressing together, as close as he can possibly get. He leans in and presses his mouth to Mickey’s awaiting lips, a soft moan escaping from it. Mickey smiled into the kiss, his hands slowly smoothing up Ian’s chest, fingertips inching up to his neck until he could wrap his arms around his shoulders, gripping the sides of his neck. He rolled his body up, his groin aligning perfectly with Ian’s, feeling his hard cock hitting the side of his hip.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey gasped. 

Ian groaned, his teeth nipping Mickey’s chin. He tilted his head back and saw the lush arousal in Mickey’s face. Pupils completely blown, lips swollen, shiny with spit. He was panting, chest rising up and down, breathing short and shallow. 

“Fucking look at you.” Ian murmured. 

Before Mickey could reply, he dove back in, capturing his mouth with a searing kiss. He gripped the underside of Mickey’s thighs, lifting him up to his waist. “Tell me you want this,” his voice muffled as his mouth sucked on Mickey’s Adam apple. “Fucking tell me to stop if you don’t want this.” He nudged his nose underneath his ear, “Please, Mick.” 

Mickey gripped Ian’s neck, strong and warm. He took a breath and hooked his legs around Ian’s hips. His heart rabbiting on his chest, salty beads of water rolling down his face. Every surface of his body tingling, twitching with every touch, every minute movement of their bodies. Mickey arched up, his cock brushing against Ian’s hard dick, he moaned. 

“Yeah, Mick. Look at me, you want this?”

Mickey was unable to resist it now. He closed his eyes shut, head tilting to the sky. A quiet nervous laughter started bubbling in his chest. _He can’t... how can he… How can he not possibly want this?_

Ian cradled Mickey’s jawline, forcing him to look at him, “Mick?”

Mickey slowly opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering as he tries to focus on Ian’s voice. He looked down on Ian’s face and smiled. Mickey licked his lips and lowered his face, lips barely touching Ian’s, whispering, “Wrap your hands around us. Get us off with your big fucking hands, Ian.”

“Jesus,” Ian murmured, his hands securing Mickey’s legs to his hips. He brought his right hand between them, his hand gripping the strong lines of their cocks. He started jerking them off slowly, starting from the base up to the length of them, his thumb slightly brushing the head of Mickey's cock. 

“Shit, ” Mickey said quietly, breathily. He started rolling his hips on Ian’s groin trying to get more friction. Ian lets out a soft sigh, knees bending slightly, as he tries to give Mickey what he wanted. He flexes his thigh muscles, his left hand holding the meat of Mickey’s ass. He pushes their groins closer, their bodies thrusting against each other. Ian’s pace began to quicken, his motions rhythmic and fast. Mickey hugs Ian’s hips tighter as he feels the swell in his belly, his legs trembling. Ian jerks them faster, movements becoming erratic as they chase their orgasm. He moaned loudly as he began to feel it, the release that he had been chasing.

“Mickey, I’m… I’m coming, Mickey.” 

“I…” Mickey’s eyes widened, dipping his head and kissed Ian until he couldn't think, until he can’t remember how to properly form any words, until his mind went blank. He gasped, uneven throaty breaths escaping his lips as his body jerked, releasing milky fluid into his hands. 

Ian moaned deeply into the kiss as he also found his release, his hips bickering into his fist, his hand jerking faster beyond his control. His body twitches as he empties himself on his hand, his left hand almost losing his grip on Mickey’s ass. 

They broke apart to breathe, their lips barely touching. They were panting together with uneven breaths. They found each other’s lips again, kissing slower, gentler until their breathing slowed down, until their bodies calmed down. 

“Wow.”

“Wow.”

“That was… good.” Mickey nuzzled his face on Ian’s neck, wrapping his arms around them.

“Good?”

“Yeah...” Mickey wanted to say it was incredible. That he had never had that intense orgasm in his life, but he doesn’t want to freak Ian out. He bit his bottom lip, “It’s good.”

“Okay, good. I’ll take it.” Ian purses his lips then blows a breath in between his lips. “I actually wanted you to say that’s the best tandem hand job you've ever had, but yeah, okay fine. I’ll take good.”

Mickey giggles, hugging Ian with his legs, “Look. It’s not like the beach is the perfect spot to have mind blowing sex you know.” 

“You mean, you want to have full on sex with me now? Like dicks and butts?”

“Okay. Calm down, cowboy.” Mickey said with a frantic laugh. “There is a time and place and moment for that.” 

Ian smiled, exhaling a smooth breath, “Alright.” Pausing a bit after his eyes fluttered shut as he kissed Mickey’s lips, arms looping around his waist, “I can’t wait to have our dicks and butt action. Shit.” He laughs loudly, “That sounds fucking awful.”

They started giggling, their bodies shaking under the still waters. They stayed like that, arms and limbs embracing each other. Mickey’s cheek settled on Ian’s temples, his arm curled over his shoulder. Ian holding his body up, hands hooked under his thighs.

It was probably past midnight by now, but they didn’t care. Didn’t want to disrupt the calm before them. As the surface of the sea radiates ripples of light from the moon and stars, they found their peace of heaven, their own piece of serenity in their chaotic lives. And it couldn’t get any better than this. Or maybe it can, maybe there is more for them. But for now, this is it. And they’ll take it. They’ll take it until there is something far greater, a better piece of heaven than this. 

  
  


_________

September 15, 2006 

7:15 AM

White rays of the sunlight warmed the room as it entered through the skylight. The cool air from the AC touching their bare skins not covered by the duvet. Ian breathed in, his nose brushing into something warm, firm. He curled his arms around its torso, pulling it close, slotting their bodies into a warm embrace. He feels Mickey moving backwards until their snuggling further, his ass curving backwards to his parted thighs. Ian flattens the palms of his hands on his stomach, curling their bodies until every surface of their bodies are in contact with each other.

Mickey hums, “Do we really have to go somewhere today?”

Ian pouted, his lips touching Mickey’s nape. “We have to. This is your first time being on Shelter Island.”

“Ugh, we can do it next time.”

“Mickey,” Ian said deeply in his throat, hands gripping his body tightly, pulling him closer.

“Why, do you not want to come back here?”

Ian smiled, pressing his lips on Mickey’s warm skin. “I do. I’d come back here with you if you want to.”

Mickey nodded on his pillow, pulling Ian’s hand to his chest, “Yeah, I’d like that. But,” His bare feet shuffling, hooking his ankles underneath Ian’s legs, “do we really have to get up now? I’m so comfy here.”

“Yeah, Mick. We still have to get breakfast and drive up to Mashomack Preserve. They open in an hour.”

Mickey moved, shooting his arm up, “Argh, okay, fine. But they better have strong coffee downstairs. I need a lot of caffeine in my system for something strenuous such as hiking.”

“You bike to the Pier at least once a week, Mick. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“But I wanna stay here. Wanna sleep more, Ian,” he whines, hiking Ian’s arms to his chest.

“We’ll have fun, I swear,” Ian purses his lips, kissing Mickey’s nape. 

“One hour. I can only take one hour of hiking and then I’m done.”

“Sure, sure baby, one hour.” He ran his fingers on the side of Mickey’s chest, pinching his left nipple.

“You motherfucker!” Mickey starts kicking back, the palms of his feet hitting Ian’s calves and knees. His hands reach back, trying to get a hold of Ian’s arms that began flailing, pushing him off his body the moment Mickey started kicking him. “Come here, you fucker.” 

They were both out of the bed, running in circles around each other. Their laughter echoing in the room. Ian dodged Mickey’s foot as he attempted to hit his shin, his foot getting caught on a discarded jacket on the floor. Ian fell ass first, making a loud thud sound on the floor.

“Oww!”

A loud boom of laughter came out of Mickey’s mouth, the sound reverberating off the walls. He bent down, his hand on his knees as he continued laughing at Ian. Mickey bit his lips, trying to suppress his giggles, his shoulders shaking, his eyes dancing with delight. He offered his hand, grabbing Ian’s wrist, hoisting him up off the floor. As soon as he was up, Ian began massaging the muscles of his ass, making gentle circular strokes on top of his boxers.

“Served you right, Gallagher.” Mickey snickered. He joins Ian’s hand, tenderly squeezing the meat of his ass. 

“Ouch, Mick. That really hurt.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. You want me to get some ice downstairs?” 

“No, don’t do that. But shit, Mick, this really hurts,” Ian groans.

“I’m sorry.” Mickey kisses his jaw. “Okay, I’ll go easy on you. I won’t jump kick you next time.”

“I fucking tripped, Mickey!”

“Semantics. I kicked you, I missed, you still fell, hit your ass, and now you’re sore. Same.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Sure, sure. Now, enough of the whining. Let’s go hiking.”

  
  


_________

Same day

8:35 AM

They had been walking the Blue trail for thirty minutes when they passed the oak-hickory forest where there is a wooden boardwalk which makes the trek easier for all hikers. The length of the trail is about 4.3 miles, starting from the rolling hills of the preserve, passing the oak-hickory forest that borders the Coecles Harbor, rimming the Great Swamp. There are a lot of tree roots intertwining their path, the curled branches thick with green moss, emitting a strong scent foliage. The path is surprisingly clear, in spite of the wayward roots that they sometimes see in their trail. On their ninety minutes of walking, the boardwalk ended and became a braille trail where they had to read on the signs on every turn of the path so they would know exactly where they were. 

Mickey and Ian kept on walking even if the light from the sky seemed to be more dimmed at this point, like the mighty tall trees around them were preventing the rays of the sun from touching this particular path. A few minutes of trekking led them to a hidden oasis, tucked away in the depths of the forest, where a crystal clear lake can be found. It seemed the clear water was cushioned from below by green ivy circling the perimeter of the lake, high, tall trees arched forward towards the center as if the leaves were trying to hide this place, to remain untouched, unbothered by travelers.

Mickey turned to Ian, a tired but happy smile in his face, “Let’s take a picture. I want to remember being here, Ian”

“Yeah, this place is gorgeous. I haven’t hiked this far before.”

“Really? I thought you knew this place?” 

“I do, I did. But that was a few years ago, when Emilia’s children went with me. Maria and Luis, they went with me here one time. But not this trail though.”

“Oh, it would've been amazing to see this with your friends.”

“Mickey, I would rather see this place with you. That’s the exact reason I brought you here. Cause I knew you would love it.”

A soft pink color starts creeping on Mickey’s face, his cheek tinting darker as a smile blossoms on his lips. His eyes sparkling in a way that only happiness can bring. He reached out and cradled Ian’s jaw, guiding him down for a soft kiss.

“Thank you, I love it. I love everything here.”

“You’re very welcome, Milkovich. Do you want to take a picture now before I change my mind and make out with you in the lake?”

Mickey’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening, “You fucking ruined the moment, Gallagher. For a minute there, I thought you’re going to say something romantic.”

“Making out in the forest can be romantic too. Maybe while we’re dry humping each other over there by the rocks, Bambi and Thumper will come out of the woods and watch us get off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare bring those innocent Disney characters into this conversation. Bambi? Watching us like a pervy wild hare in the forest. No. I would not allow that.” Mickey pushes Ian’s face away from him. His body squirming out from Ian’s arms.

“I’m kidding, Mick, Jesus fuck. I’m just joking.” He holds Mickey down, winding his arms around his waist, bringing their bodies closer together. He pulls his phone out from his denim shorts then flips it, aiming the camera on their faces. “Here. c’mon, Mick. Let’s take a picture.”

Mickey’s scowl began to soften, his downturned lips slowly turning into a smile. “Make it good, Gallagher. If this picture doesn’t turn out good, I will drown you in this lake.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well then, I have to take hundreds of photos here then, until you are satisfied.”

“You better.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

  
  


__________

  
  


Same day

3:02 PM

  
  


The boat was about fifty feet long with a single funnel rising over the center. Just behind the bridge is a small cabin, where one long L-shaped leather couch, that can be also used as a bed, lined the left side of the space. In front of it is a small rectangular table where they can place their food to maybe wine or dine if they want to do that later. The boat was cream colored with natural wood trimmings, a wooden deck, brass lamps under the canopies. A tall slender, teardrop shaped mast that rises up at the center of the boat, rotating as Ian turns the boat to a halt. On the second deck, is an opening where you can find a small kitchen and bathroom. Ian told him that he had ordered their dinner early in the restaurant, their take out boxes inside the three-foot tall fridge. He also said that they might come back to the Inn after sunset, since they’ve got everything they need for the next few hours. 

The boat was in the middle of the sea. There are a few tugboats and fisherman’s boats scattered along the waters, but they are too far for Mickey to see where exactly they were, who they are, what they’re actually doing out there. 

He rocked on his heels back and forth, his body swaying with the waves. Mickey held on the shroud, balancing himself.

“Hey.” Ian winds his arm on Mickey's stomach. “You wanna go for a quick swim or you want to rest?”

“I think I’m okay being right here now,” Mickey yawns, “The sun is making me sleepy.” 

“We can take a nap for a bit. I think I’m tired too from the hike.” 

“Yeah, today was a lot. I mean, even last night was a lot.”

“Regrets?”

Mickey’s gaze snapped at Ian’s face, “Regrets? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I was just saying…”

“Are you the one having regrets then?”

“No.” Ian shook his head, “Never.”

“Okay, you know what, I think it’s the sun that’s making you think weird thoughts. Are you feeling sick? Dehydrated?’ Mickey began touching random spots on his face and neck. His face smiling. “I’m perfectly happy now, with you.” Mickey’s eyes began to crinkle, his smile getting wider. “I will never have any regrets when I’m with you, Ian.”

“It’s just that,” Ian pulls Mickey closer, his eyes searching his face, “I don’t think I can bear to not have this when I go back to my life. I don’t know if you would still want this with Olivia out there. Acting as my fiancé, while you, the one I truly want to be with staying in the background.”

Mickey licked his mouth slowly, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. He looked at Ian’s eyes, blue orbs boring into emerald ones. He opened his mouth, then closed it again for a split second. He swallowed, his chin tilting for a fraction, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“I will,” Mickey slowly says, “I will take whatever you can give me, however I can have you. I will take it.”

“What are you saying, Mickey?”

“If I have to remain in the shadows, for you and Olivia to have a relationship, for you and your family, Ian, I will take it. As long as I can have you like this. Whatever you want me to be, as long as we have this, together.”

“You… Okay, alright.” Ian said softly, concern clouding his eyes. 

This is not fair on Mickey. He shouldn’t settle for this. Ian wanted more for Mickey, for them. He watches every emotion fleet on Mickey’s face. Sadness, Fear, Anxiety, Joy and Love. Ian curled his hands on his neck, his thumbs gently caressing Mickey’s lower lip. He studied his face for a few seconds, his eyes flicking momentarily at Mickey’s lips then back up to his blazing blue eyes, all intense, honest and gentle.

“If we do this, I need you to be honest with me that if you can’t do it anymore, if you decide to let go and not be in each other’s lives, you have to tell me, Mickey. Promise me, if you can’t handle it, if I’m hurting you, you have to tell me.”

“I will, I promise,” Mickey whispers. “I just want to be with you.”

He nuzzled their noses together, their foreheads pressing slightly. 

“You are one stupid, beautiful, reckless, lovely idiot of a man. Why would you fucking agree to this?” Ian blows a breath from his mouth, their lips brushing.

“Because I love you, you asshole.” Mickey pinches the sides of Ian’s waist.

“Ahh.” Ian pulled his head back, his face wincing. He shakes his head, eyes soft and fond.

“I love you too, Mickey. I will try my darnedest to not make you let go. I fucking will try to make this work, I swear to god.”

Ian could feel the tension dissipating from their limbs, he leaned down, bringing their gazes in level. Mickey smiled wide, he hugged Ian, his arms circling his waist. He held Ian tighter, his arms curling around Ian’s upper back. Ian presses their faces together, his nose bumping on Mickey’s. He lolled his head to the side, leaned in, tugging on Mickey’s pursed lower lip. He clasps his fingers at the back of his neck, as he deepens the kiss, his mouth pulling on Mickey’s lips relentlessly. Ian darts his tongue out, licking the seam of Mickey’s mouth, and forces it open. He felt Mickey take a breath through his lips, parting it just barely. Ian taking this opportunity to dive his tongue in, earning him a soft moan from Mickey. Their kisses become wetter, sloppier, tongues gliding in and out of each other’s mouth. 

He broke the kiss, Ian needing a moment to breath. He stood up straight, his face merely inches away from Mickey. He stares at his face, his lips swollen, puffy, eyes at its most intense blue.

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, so tight he might be squeezing the life out of him. His head rested at the crook of Mickey's neck 

“I fucking love you, Mickey,” he whispered, “more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know.” Mickey whispered in Ian’s hair, his hand stroking his nape. 

Ian nuzzles his face further into the curve of Mickey’s neck, until he can breath him in, taste him. “Thank you for being here. I’m glad you happened.”

“I’m glad you happened too.”

Ian pulled his head out of Mickey’s neck and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “I will make it work, Mickey. I will make us work, I promise.”

“Okay,” he exhaled, a smile lingering on Mickey’s lips. 

“Okay,” Ian whispered back. 

It was nighttime when they decided to go back to the Inn, the sun setting majestically in front of them. They were both quiet for the boat ride back to the docks, their fingers linked as Ian drove the boat to the shore. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but a certain tranquil state between them. They stepped down from the boat and walked hand in hand as they approached the Ram’s Head Inn. 

Ian has eighteen more hours with Mickey until they have to get back to Manhattan. He has to try to make the time slow down a bit, their time has to linger more because he might miss this desperately, he might struggle with his life knowing by Monday, he will be without this, without Mickey. 

He will be at Yale, be the dutiful, obedient son of Ernest Gallagher, and be the diligent fiancé of Olivia Schwarzman. 

He knows it, deep within the recesses of his brain, his heart aching with how close it's gonna be, that he will miss this, all of these.

Eighteen hours left. He’s got eighteen hours left with the boy he truly loves. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** uhm, so.. that happened.  
> *** the shelter island is tiny island that is less than 5 minutes away from the Hamptons and 10 minutes away from Manhattan. It's a beautiful, isolated, quaint place perfect for a weekend getaway. And I want the boys to go there, have perfect vacay.  
> *** also, i have no idea how to sail. so everything about boats, my bff google helped me with that. so sorry if there’s misinformation too.  
> *** there's a continuation of this chapter, coz they have 18 hours left. Want to make the trip worth it for them.  
> *** again, thanks to Pam, my beta for the last two chapters. Man, this is a monster right? so sorry. hope you had fun editing my chapters.  
> *** to anyone who's still here, reading my fic. legends, absolute legends in my book. lots of love to y'all.


	17. Fly With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last 18 hours of the boys in Shelter Island and they're desperately buying more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So come on get higher, loosen my lips.  
> Faith and desire and the swing of your hips.  
> Just pull me down hard,  
> And drown me in love
> 
> \- Come On Get Higher by Matt Nathanson

  
  
  


September 15, 2006

9:12 PM

  
  


Mickey opened the door to the bathroom and tugged the bottom of his t-shirt over his head. It has been a very long day and he feels tired, just so tired. 

They had started the day early, went hiking to Mashamok Preserve for three and a half hours, more time of walking that he had intentionally planned. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it, heck his jaw was constantly unhinged the whole time they were walking through the trail. The thing is, he was and has always been a fan of the outdoors, of nature. To think that he used to live in California, he would’ve done all the hiking, trekking, cross country travelling that can last him a lifetime. But unfortunately, throughout his life as an orphan, all he ever saw are seven street names, seven different houses, seven different families, seven different rooms with roommates who will always remain strangers to him. Almost seven years of constant worry if where he is at that time will be where he will finally stay. 

Mickey sat on the closed seat cover, taking off his shorts and boxers and ran the water in the tub. He made sure the water was warm enough that when he got in, he would feel the heat diffusing in his skin and muscles. He is not the kind of person who likes baths. Actually, Mickey thought, he had never had a bath in his life. To him, taking a bath is a luxury that rich people do, and he is so far from being one. But tonight, he wanted to feel the comfort of laying in a tub with warm water, the room filling with perfumed steam, his tensed muscles relaxing for half an hour or more. 

He opened the jar filled with Pink Himalayan Lavender and Chamomile bath salts. He double checks the label on the mason jar filled with crystal salts. Wait a minute, Himalayan? _Are these crystal salts found in the fucking Himalayan mountains? What?_ Mickey snorted and shook his head. He can never understand rich people and their weird indulgences. He poured two handfuls of the salt in the steaming water and sniffed at the relaxing aroma from the heated air. 

This is nice, he thought to himself, he kind of likes it. He had just got up from the lidded toilet bowl when he heard the door of the bathroom opening. Mickey quirked an eyebrow with the intruder who is currently closing the door the moment he sets foot inside the room.

“Can I help you?” Mickey asks grinning.

Ian runs a hand through his sticky hair, his eyes almost popping when he sees Mickey standing naked, his left foot raised like it’s about to dip in the tub.

“Uhm…” he purposely strays his eyes away from Mickey and turns around. “I think I need to shower too.” He sniffs the air, notices the condensation from the walls. “Oh, you ran a bath. Cool, okay.” he chuckled nervously, “So maybe you want me to come back later, right? Okay, I’ll...”

Mickey snickered as he walked up to Ian. He reached for Ian’s elbow making him turn around “You wanna come with? I think I've put in enough water for two.” 

“I’m…” Ian breathlessly says, eyes locking at Mickey. “Only if you're sure.”

“Don’t expect any dicks and butts action yet, Gallagher.” Mickey soothes, his hand slowly moving down circling Ian’s wrist, tugging him forward. “C’mon, we’re just going in for a bath.” 

“Alright.” 

Mickey gave him a soft peck on the lips as he unlaced the knot of his board shorts. 

_Oh god._ “Mi..ckey.” Ian stutters.

“Relax. Breath.” 

Ian nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with Mickey. His nose started flaring, his chest puffing with how hard he was breathing. He kept on swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every audible gulp he’s making. 

“I just have...” Mickey hooked his thumbs inside Ian’s waistband then pulled down his shorts together with his boxers. He sees Ian’s cock springing to the side, its pinkish head hitting the left side of his groin. He heard Ian make a soft gasp, his wide eyed falling heavily on him. Mickey snorted. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I...” Ian said shakily. “don’t know.” 

“Lift your arms, please.” Mickey raised the hems of Ian’s shirt over his head, “there you go. All naked for me.”

“Uh huh.” _Gulp._ “Yeah.” Ian’s dick twitched. _Gulp._

Mickey leaned forward, his forehead resting on Ian’s shoulder, giggling lightly. “Oh my god, Ian. You’re too fucking easy.” 

“Mick,” Ian groaned, holding Mickey’s shoulder, smoothing it towards the sides of his neck, “Don’t tease me this way.” he grumbled.

Mickey blew a shaky breath, shoulders shaking a bit. He kissed Ian’s left collarbone. “I’m sorry.” he kissed the side of his neck, “I’m so sorry.” his mouth blowing a warm breath on Ian’s left ear, “so sorry.” Mickey whispered.

Ian slackened his jawline, a loud moan escaping his lips, “Mickey.”

“What?” He moved backward, head tilting up to look at Ian’s face. He rested his hands on Ian’s hips and grinned at him. 

“You are not playing fair.”

“Who says we’re playing, Ian. We’re just gonna take a bath.” Mickey purrs, his fingertips grazing Ian’s sides up to his ribs. He lifts his hands, wounding it around his wrists. Mickey glancing up, eyes crinkling. “I am liking how this is affecting you so much.”

Ian bent his knees and hooked both his hands under the swell of Mickey’s ass, lifting him up. Mickey automatically wraps his legs around his hips, hands sliding up, gripping the ends of Ian’s hair.

“Hello, we’ve been here before.” Mickey giggled.

“Shut up.” Ian bent down capturing Mickey’s still smiling lips. He sucked on his mouth, tugging his lower lip hard. Mickey let out a moan, Ian’s hands clenching at the meat of his ass. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Mickey’s body began undulating, their groins lining up, cocks bumping together.

“Fuck.” Mickey opened his mouth wider, tongue darting in Ian’s parted lips. He tightens his hold on his hair, almost pulling them to the point that it’ll definitely hurt.

“Jesus.” Ian panted, lips slipping off Mickey’s mouth. “Jesus fuck, Mickey.” tongue licking the side of his chin.

“Wait,” Mickey pulled Ian’s hair, tilting his head backwards. “The bath.” he slowly says.

“Shit,” Ian groaned as he looked at Mickey’s lidded eyes, his lips wet and puffy. 

_Shit, right._

Mickey’s throat bobbed, gaze not leaving Ian’s lips. “You can…” He still had his hands clasped on the back of his neck. “You can… you can put me down now, Ian.”

Ian nodded and slowly squatted, carefully letting go of Mickey’s thighs off his hands. Mickey stood shakily in front of him, hands still wrapped around his neck, a foot of space between them. 

They were still looking at each other’s lips, small labored breaths coming out of their mouths.

“Mick.”

“Hmm?”

“The bath.”

“What about it?”

Ian smiled, his chin jutting forward, “Aren’t we taking a bath?”

“Give me a second.” Mickey licked his lips, his tongue slowly dragging from the seam to the middle, biting the meatiest part of it, pulling it inside by his teeth. 

“A second?” Ian smiling wider, Mickey blinked then looked up to his eyes then quickly looked back down. 

“Yeah, one more second.” He surges forward and kisses Ian’s inviting lips. Ian shuddered and pulled him close to his chest. Mickey took a step backward, his hands gliding from his neck to Ian’s chest then to his hands. “Okay, let’s take a bath.”

“Mick, you are literally killing me.”

“No killing. Just taking a bath, remember?” 

Mickey spun around, his right hand pulling Ian’s left hand to the tub. He dipped his hand in the water and thought it needed more heat. He turned the tap on for a few seconds, releasing his grip on Ian’s hand as his fingers flitter on the water making small ripples, bubbles forming on the surface. He turned off the hot water tap until he felt the right kind of warmth in the water. 

“Perfect.” He grinned looking back at Ian. Mickey reached behind himself and wrapped his hand around his forearm. “C’mon Gallagher, let’s have a bath.”

Ian took a step into the tub, right foot then left and slid down, his back hitting the smooth porcelain surface. He watches Mickey as he carefully dips his right foot in the water, Ian guiding him by the hip and slowly slotting himself down in the V of his legs. Ian scoots down, and brackets Mickey's body with his long legs. 

“You comfortable?” Ian asked, looping an arm around Mickey’s chest.

“Very.” Mickey peered at him, his head tilting back as his body slid down the tub propping it under Ian’s chin. “Can you reach the sponge?”

“Yeah,” Ian stretched his left hand, his index and middle finger reaching strings of the sponge on the sink. _Yes._ “Gotcha.”

He gave Mickey the loofah and wrapped both his arms on his torso. Mickey plunged the sponge in the water and started gently scrubbing it on his arms then Ian’s arms.

“Who taught you how to sail?”

“I think it was either Johnson or my aunt Catherine’s boyfriend, Marco.”

“You have an aunt?”

“Yeah, she…” Ian squirmed as Mickey rubbed the loofah up his thighs, “lives in California now.”

“She built an empire there as well?” Mickey started to rhythmically rub the sponge from Ian’s inner upper thighs up to his own thighs, switching from right to left leg doing the same motion. He started to feel so relaxed he fully laid his back on Ian’s chest. 

“No,” Ian exhaled a small breath, hand sliding on Mickey’s stomach, pulling his body to his. “Actually we don’t know what happened to her when she moved to California.”

“Hmmm, how so?” Mickey nuzzled on Ian’s neck, head resting on his shoulder. 

“She was sort of driven out of the family when she decided to elope with her boyfriend.”

_Oh._ “Oh.”

“Marco, my aunt Catherine’s boyfriend, was the coolest guy I’ve ever met. He’s an artist, makes sculptures for a living. I think I still have a couple of the things he made for me.” Ian’s eyebrows burrowed. He just hopes his dad hasn’t found them and thrown them away.

“What’s so bad about Marco?”

Ian propped his feet up, the heels of his feet resting on the edge of the tub. His neck arched backwards as he let Mickey’s head fully rest on his chest. He gathers bubbly water on the palms of his hand and starts lathering it on Mickey’s arms and chests. Ian leaned down and kissed Mickey on the top of his head, his hand smoothing up and down his smooth chest. 

He hummed before saying, “Marco is that kind of person who you felt comfortable with the first time you met him. He never treated me as a kid, even though at that time I literally was. I really liked him, but my dad was sort of rude to him whenever aunt Catherine brought him over.”

Mickey turns a bit sideways, his cheeks brushing the cool skin of Ian’s pecs, his right arm going around Ian’s back. He nudged his face on the crook of Ian’s neck, puckering his lips and kissed his jaw. “What about your mom?” he asked softly. Ian’s left arm moves over his shoulder as his body gets comfortable with the new position.

“She and aunt Catherine were good friends, always found them having drinks by the beach or gossiping in the kitchen. My mother doesn’t say much about Marco, but I think she liked him.” a slight lilt in Ian’s voice. “Mom was sort of devastated when Aunt Catherine moved to California,” he sighed, “I think she was my mom’s best friend to be honest.”

“She never returned to New York?”

“No. My grandfather would not let her. She was,” Ian had to stop and think of the right words to say, “Aunt Catherine was supposed to marry this man that my grandfather picked for her. She was about to graduate at Columbia when she was told about it. There was a big party when they made the announcement, I still remember my aunt’s surprised face when the announcement was made. I could never forget that look on her face. It’s like she was blindsided.”

Mickey listens to Ian’s heartbeat, steady, calm like a swinging pendulum. Beating, pulsing, thumping in its own rhythm.

_Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub._

He kept his ears pressed to his chest, as he heard the words that came out of Ian’s mouth. Mickey let the information sink into his brain. Ian’s aunt Catherine was supposed to marry another man, whom the family chose but eloped with another man and now have been banished like a prodigal son to the other side of the country. _She eloped with another man and was told never to return to New York with the family._

“That was more than five years ago.” Ian continues, “The last we heard of her was when Peter had to drop her at JFK with a trunk full of her belongings and tell him if he ever decided to move to California, to find her and she’ll give him a job. After that, nothing. No letters, no cards, no phone calls, nothing.”

Mickey exhaled, his warm breath brushing the shell of Ian’s ear. He scooted back, his right ass cheek hitting the middle of Ian’s thigh. Ian widened the space in between his legs, as he tried to guide Mickey’s body to find another comfortable spot. 

Ian ran his left hand on Mickey’s face, “Oh man, sorry for this depressing story.” he kissed his temples, “We were talking about me sailing right? I learned to sail just about the time my aunt left for California.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You know you don’t have to do something BIG just so I know you like me, right? I would never ask you to do something you don’t want to, Ian”

“Of course. Why, where is this coming from?”

Mickey swallowed, eyes gazing up at Ian’s face, his hand lingering on his lean arms. His brows were furrowed, blue eyes searching his face. “I… think we’re already getting pruney,” He untangles himself from Ian and grips the edge of the tub, “and as much as I want more of this talk, I think it’s time for us to finish the bath.” 

“But…”

“Let’s finish washing up, we can… talk about this in bed.” Mickey pushes the small button beside the tap and the bubbly water starts to drain. He held onto the tub and Ian’s hand went up to his waist and stood up from the tub as well.

“Okay. Alright, Mick.” He sighed. 

Ian was about to step out from the tub when Mickey turned around and kissed him on the mouth. His hand automatically cupped Mickey’s face. He breathed into the kiss, Mickey going wanton immediately. Ian pulled back and looked at his face, “I know what we have right now is not ideal, but I will not do anything that I know would hurt you, Mickey.” He gives him another peck on the lips, “I love you, so so much, Mick.”

Mickey nodded, sadness written all over his face. “Let’s…” he turned the knob to the shower and pulled Ian to him. “Take a shower first, Ian.” his voice almost a whisper. 

He loops Ian’s hands to his front and drops his head to Ian’s shoulders. The water pours down their bodies, his lips parting as the drops of water cascade on his face. The sensation gives him temporary calmness, his mind not racing a mile a minute. It gives him a foggy illusion of tranquility, here in this room in the arms of the boy he loves, in this moment where Olivia doesn't exist. His mind swirled under the lukewarm waterfall from the shower. But this illusion can never last, will not last outside this room, this island. And Mickey has to make a decision that may give him a bit of reprieve. He decides that tonight he’ll give in. He has to let go.

“Mick?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Ian whispers to his ear.

He tilted his head up, a small smile on his lips. Mickey reached up and wound his hand to Ian’s neck, “I love you too.” and kisses his jawline.

They finished their shower and toweled themselves up, discarding the damp towels on the floor. Mickey pulled Ian towards the bed and they laid sideways, bodies turned towards each other. Mickey swallowed and brushed his hand on Ian’s cheek. “In a perfect world, Ian. I’d be asking you to be my b… person. But…” his lips started trembling. He bit his bottom lip, trying to control himself.

_Let it hurt. Let me taste how this would hurt if this ends._

“We’re not in any perfect world. We are here, in this situation that we have no control of.” Mickey said, his open, sincere eyes boring on him, “I don’t want to want anything that I know I may never have in the end. But, I’m going to stay, be in love with you this way, as long as I want, as long as I can. Cause, this is the only thing making me happy, being here with you. Knowing you feel the same way.” He wounds his arms to Ian’s waist, “You make me so happy, Ian.”

Their bodies started moving closer together, limbs inching closer, reaching for each other, bodies swaying until no space was left between them.

“I want to…” Mickey says softly, “I want to make love to you.”

Ian gasped, eyes big and round, lips agape. Mickey’s words knocked the breath out of him, his mind went blank, unable to form any words, unable to speak. 

“What?” Ian said breathlessly.

“Do you not want to? Have sex with me?”

“No…”

“No?” Mickey’s clear blue eyes rose to Ian’s face. He knew it was a risk to ask Ian, but he wanted it, needed it tonight. He looked down and angled his face away, pushing himself off the warm embrace.

“Wait, no. That’s not what I meant. Mickey, look at me.” Ian reached out, left hand clasping Mickey’s neck. “Please.” his voice low, deep. “Mick.” his thumb brushing the other boy’s lips.

Mickey stared at Ian’s lips, his body shuddered as he released a breath. He said, voice almost a whisper, “Do you,” he looked up at Ian’s questioning eyes, “want to have sex with me?”

“That wasn’t your question, Mick.” he moved closer, their noses almost touching, “Say it. Ask me, Mickey.” Ian melded his hand on Mickey’s hips, pulling it closer, his legs hooking on Mickey’s calves, bodies slotting perfectly. 

“Make love to me, Ian. Please.” voice soft, with a slight hitch at the end, like he was unsure, like he was almost praying for Ian to say yes.

Ian smiled, “Yes. A thousand times, yes.” he pressed his lips to Mickey’s mouth. 

A smile blossomed on Mickey’s face, his eyes crinkling as he kissed Ian. He wrapped his hands on Ian’s neck, his head tilting to the side, making the kiss deeper. Ian tightly gripped Mickey’s body, squeezing his hips, lining up their groins. Sounds of heavy breathing and moans percolating the silent room. Their hands began wandering to places they’ve never been before. Ian’s hands dragged down on Mickey’s body, flattening on the swell of his ass cheek. He pulls it towards himself, Mickey hard cock brushing his own.

“Oh fuck.” Mickey groans.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, shit. Ian. I… need more.”

Ian bent over, sucking the soft skin on the curve of Mickey’s shoulder, bodies flushing together. It was like they were dancing, their bodies swaying, moving to a silent music. They were moving in a certain rhythm, only their bodies knew how to do.

Their kisses become urgent, hungry, sloppy, messy. They were all limbs and tongues, a trail of spit and moisture on every surface their lips touched. Ian flips them, Mickey’s pliant body under him. He licked on his collarbones, Mickey shuddered and arched his body. 

“Oh my god.”

Ian kissed the center of his chest, his left hand holding Mickey’s hip, stunting his movements. He flicks his tongue to his right nipple. Mickey groaned, sending a quiet command for Ian to do it again. He sucked on the tiny nub, swirling his tongue over it.

“Ian, fuck. Stop.” Mickey blinks to the ceiling, his mind warbled. “Wait.” he said softly.

“What?” Ian sucked a breath, lifting his head to the sound of Mickey’s voice. He crawled up, they’re chest to chest, feeling each other’s body heats and every intake of breaths. “What do you want, Mickey?” he asks, their lips touching.

“I got… condom, lube.” Mickey said quietly, “I’ve got them in my bag.”

“I have them too.” Ian said sheepishly, his mouth quirking on the side. “I was hoping to get lucky.”

“You sneaky bastard.” Mickey snickers, twisting his thumb and index finger on Ian’s right nipple. 

Ian yelped, stomach clenching with pain and glee. He started laughing, their bellies bumping into each other. He kissed Mickey’s smiling lips then scooted back from the bed. “Okay, give me a sec. I’ll be back.” 

He tiptoed speedily to his backpack, hand unzipping it hurriedly as he took a hold of it. Ian reached down, his fingers curling beneath all his clothes. He smiled as he grasped the small bottle of lube and yanked it out of the bag. He dug his hand back into his bag again and slid it inside a secret compartment. Ian probably brought three pockets of condoms with him, not sure if Mickey would be up to it, he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Never with Mickey.

“Uhm, yeah. I got it.” He said softly, turning his head towards the bed. “I’m coming.”

“Already?” Mickey said grinning.

“Fuck you, you’re making me nervous.” He quickly walked back to the bed. He placed his left knee on the bed, “So, I’ve got the stuff.”

“Indeed you do.”

“So we’re really doing this.”

“That was the plan, yeah.”

“Shit, so… Do you want me to, uhmm…” Ian doesn’t know, wasn’t even sure if Mickey was a top or bottom. He opens his hand, palms out, the small bottle of lube and three pockets of condoms on his hand. Mickey scooted down on the bed, hands reaching for his wrist.  
  
  


“I assume you know how to use these, right?” Mickey knelt on the edge of the bed, his parted thighs in between Ian’s bent left knee. He looked up at Ian and continued, “I asked you to make love to me. I want you inside of me, Ian.”

“Mick.” He breathed out. Ian placed his right knee on the bed, his hands wrapping around Mickey’s neck. His voice sounding strangled, like he was choking, “You have no idea how much I’ve waited for this.” 

They stayed at the edge of the bed, kissing, whispering their wants to each other. Fingertips gliding, grazing on each other’s bodies, sending minute electric shocks with every press, every gentle touch of their skin. Mickey smiled as he planted a final kiss on Ian’s lips, his hand cradling Ian’s face. “You ready now?”

He gulped audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing a few times. “Jesus, I’m shaking.”

“Are you… You’ve done this before right?”

“No. Yes. No I’m not a virgin, Mickey. It’s just that,” He pulls the damp ends of his hair on his nape, his eyes roving around the bed, not looking at Mickey. “I don’t know how I can make it good for you, Mickey. I wanna be good for you.” 

Mickey touched the side of Ian’s cheeks, fingertips gently caressing his face. He pressed his mouth to Ian’s lips. He looked at Ian’s frantic eyes and whispered. “You are so good, always so good to me. I will tell you what I want, and you tell me what you want, okay.”

Ian nudged on his lips, mouth gently caressing Mickey’s jaws. “I want you, so fucking much.” then kissed Mickey, humming sounds escaping their lips.

Mickey sat back, pulling Ian by the hips, lips still seared together, guiding him back to the bed. He laid flat on the bed, his head gently hitting the soft pillow. He parted his knees, pulling Ian on top of him, slotting their bodies together. Mickey squeezed Ian’s hips with his thighs. “I want your lovely hands in me, Ian. Can you…uhm, do it slow. I haven’t bottomed in a while.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Ian said, his thumb barely touching his plump lips. He started kissing his lips as tenderly as he can, his hand brushing his neck down to his chest. Mickey breathing heavily underneath him, body making tiny increments of movements. Ian licks on his sternum down to his soft stomach, tongue circling his belly button. He felt Mickey’s arm holding on to his hand on his waist, his hips swiveling with every flick of his tongue. Ian goes further down until he could feel the patch of downy hair trailing towards Mickey’s groin touching his cheeks. He blew a warm breath to Mickey’s belly, his legs trembling with the sensation.

“Ian, fuck.” Mickey moans. “Please.”

He darted his tongue out, licking his belly then to the bony protuberance of his hip. Mickey starts to squirm, his hips and legs moving in a somewhat frantic motion.

_Please._

Ian places his left hand on Mickey's right thigh and parted it wider. He could smell Mickey’s arousal, the strong scent of him sending pleasurable signals in his brain. Ian makes a tentative lick on the underside of his hard cock, Mickey groaning with the feeling. He makes a bolder lick, flattening his tongue from the bottom of Mickey’s shaft up to its throbbing head. Mickey moaned loudly, making such beautiful sounds, Ian maybe getting addicted to it.

_Please._

He opens his mouth and slowly swallows the head of Mickey’s cock. Slowly, inch by inch. Ian feels the fullness in his mouth. Mickey’s taste, the heaviness of him, his girth slowly filling his orifice. 

Mickey sucked air into his lungs, his chest arching, body trembling as Ian’s warm mouth slowly enveloped his dick. _He can’t, he can’t possibly last._ This is the first time he had felt like this, like he was on fire. Like his body is involuntarily responding to this, this pleasurable sensation. _He can’t, how can he possibly last like this?_

“Ian, please.”

He relaxes his throat as his nose pressed on his groin. Ian inhaled slowly, his throat vibrating with the action. Mickey is about ready to come when he feels the oscillating motion of Ian’s tongue and throat on his cock, his body almost short circuiting with desire.

“Jesus.” he prays to no one.

Ian bobs his head, up and down while he gently drags his right hand down Mickey’s ass. He parts the meaty flesh with his thumb and middle finger, dipping his index to his entrance.

“Ian, fuck.” Mickey clenched his eyes, lips huffing a long breath. _How can he possibly last like this?_

He sucked a few more times, Ian’s head bobbing until he felt tiny droplets of precome spurting out from Mickey’s cock. Ian pulls out, a slurping sound escaping his lips. He kept his left hand on him, pumping him languidly, the combined moisture from his mouth and precome keeping the motion of his hand slick and smooth.

Ian looked up at Mickey’s face, all flushed and gorgeous. He’s got his eyes clenched shut, like he was trying to stop himself from crying. Ian soothes his hand on the inside of his opened thighs, fingers making tiny circles on his soft skin. He has never seen anything so beautiful. 

“Mickey.”

His eyes fluttered open with Ian’s voice. He scanned the ceiling before looking down on Ian. 

“Huh?”

“Can you… please give me your hand, Mickey.”

“Why, are we going somewhere?” His brows furrowing as he reaches down, grabbing Ian’s outstretched arm.

Ian took a hold of Mickey’s left hand and slowly guided it to his slicked cock. “Play with yourself while I grab the lube.” he smiled tenderly, his other hand still rubbing tiny circles in his inner thigh. He sat back, grabbing the bottle beside Mickey’s leg, flicked the cap open and poured a liberal amount on his fingers.

He sloths himself back on the V of Mickey’s legs and parted his knees wide, supporting the underside of Mickey’s thighs. Ian envelops his left hand on top of Mickey’s hand, as it moves up and down his hard cock. “Let me.” he said lowly, his hand gently nudging Mickey’s hand away. Ian bends down and kisses Mickey’s left hip as he pushes the tip of his index finger in his tight hole. Mickey jerked back, his head nuzzling deeper on the pillows, his hand slapping the headboard. 

_Jesus._

Ian pushes his finger in, the tight muscles of Mickey’s entrance sucking the tip of his finger. _Fuck_. He goes a centimeter deeper, small tiny gasps leaving Mickey’s lips. Ian pushes in, almost half his finger inside Mickey. He continues pumping his cock, his lips trailing all over Mickey’s chest and stomach. He traced his tongue on Mickey’s left nipple as he slips the entirety of his finger inside of him. Mickey moaned, his hips buckling. He pushes his index finger, in and out, gliding smoothly inside his tight rim.

“More, Ian. I can take more.” Mickey pleads. _More_.

Ian obliges and pulled his index finger out, slid two fingers in, pressing them deep in his ass. He lets go of Mickey’s cock and lays on top of him, face slotted in the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply. 

_Vanilla._ His favorite scent in the whole world, used to be his favorite scent in the whole wide world. But since he’s met Mickey, his smell, his distinct odor, is all his olfactory nerve senses know. Vanilla is no match to how intoxicating Mickey smells. Even with the smell of lavender from their bath a while ago, no match. He can still smell him. His aroma. His Mickey.

“Oh my god.” Mickey’s head falling sideways. He was panting, desperate sounds coming out from his mouth. 

_Please._

“I’m ready.” He said. 

“No you’re not.” Ian said. He kept his slow pace, fingers diving, in and out of Mickey’s hole.

“I fucking am, Ian.” He growls. 

Mickey knows he’s not, but he can’t think straight. How can he? When his lover has his slicked fingers in him, pushing, sliding, making him feel hot and bothered. 

“A few more, you need a few more.” He began scissoring his fingers, pushing the muscles open, open enough for him.

“Aaagghh...”

“One more.” Ian pushes his finger hard then pulls out, teasing the skin of his entrance with his fingertips. He tilted his head back and gave a soft kiss on Mickey’s quivering lips. He pushed himself off Mickey and sat on his heels as he rips open the pocket with his teeth. Ian slowly slid the condom on, squirted a few more dollops of lube on his hand and slicked his stiff cock before lining himself up on Mickey's rim. 

“Bend your knees more, Mick.” 

Ian can practically command him to do anything right this moment, and he will do it. No questions asked. His mind is telling him _IanIanIan._ Mickey sighed weakly, bending his legs wider.

“I’m ready.” Mickey said weakly.

He dipped his head, his lips touching the space between Mickey’s collarbones. Ian pushes his cock in, the head barely passing the tight ring when he whispers, “Tell me when I’m hurting you, Mickey. Please tell me..” he stared at Mickey’s lidded eyes. _Fuck, he’s so tight._

“I love you. I trust you won’t hurt me.” Mickey exhaled, lips brushing his cheeks. “Please, fuck me, Ian. Please, fuck me.”

Ian pushes in, both exhaling long breaths from their opened mouths. Mickey spread his legs wider, planting the heels of his feet flat on the mattress, toes digging into the soft duvet. Ian moves his hips slowly, little movements, going deeper until he feels his hips digging into Mickey’s inner thighs. He tightened his grip on Mickey’s hips, fingers pressing hard as he waited for his lover to say something. His arms began to tremble as he held his body up and not fully on Mickey. _Fuck, fuck. I don’t think I can last long_.

“Mmm... move, Ian.” Mickey whimpered, hands grabbing Ian’s shoulders. He lifted his hip, pushing his groin up to Ian. “Please fucking move. I don’t want to come this way.”

Ian grunted, lifting his ass, a soft slurping sound can be heard as he pulls out. He snapped his hips back, hands squeezing Mickey’s hips. Ian grunts, and digs his fingers on Mickey’s skin. He knows, with the way he was grasping Mickey’s body, he was certain it would leave marks on his smooth skin. He grounds his hips against him, lifting his hips slowly before diving back in.

“Fuck, you’re so hard.” Mickey gasped.

Mickey pants as Ian grabbed his hips, groin thrusting, making a slow rhythm on his hips as he entered him. They were staring at each other’s eyes, green and blue iridescent pupils blown, mouths in constant state of O. 

It was delicious, the sound they were making is fucking delicious. Their moans and grunts were like music to his ears. Mickey may be going delirious at this time, because he feels his head is growing exponentially, his body maybe lifting off the bed, he feels every movement of their bodies, acting in unison, as they do this dance of making love. Mickey’s head is about to explode any minute now. 

“Ian.” Mickey moaned his name. “Ian.”

“Mickey, Jesus fuck.” He snapped his hips back, hands hooking under Mickey’s knees. Ian began slamming his hips deeper, his mouth fumbling to find Mickey’s lips. He sucked on his chin as Mickey tilted his head, eyes rolling back as he purposely pulled back and slammed into him harder than necessary. “Fuck.” Ian bits his neck accidentally.

“More, oh my god.” he started trembling, “I want more, Ian.” Mickey croaks out. 

_More._

He hooks his legs on top of Ian’s shoulders and bucks his hips towards him. 

_More._

Ian bent his knees, slotting it underneath Mickey’s ass and started to snap his hips higher, deeper, harder. His thrusts were calculated at first but quickly became erratic as he felt the coiling in his belly. _He needs to make this last longer. Fuck, just a bit more for Mickey._

“I’m...Ian.” Mickey clenches his eyes shut, his teeth biting his trembling lips.

“Mickey.”

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey wailed, his toes curling on Ian’s back. He began spilling on his stomach. Warm, copious fluid spurting out from his untouched cock.

Ian thrusts a couple more times, his head falling forward, as Mickey clenches around his cock. His mouth sucked on the juncture between Mickey’s neck and shoulder as he emptied himself inside of him. Ian slows down the movement of his hips, their bodies twitching and shuddering with the intensity of their lovemaking. He drops Mickey’s legs from his shoulders, and it went down on his sides flaccidly as he lay on top of him. He cradled the back of Mickey’s neck as he laps on the reddened spot where his mouth was latched onto a few seconds ago. He breathes on to it, Mickey sighing with the touch of warm breath on his skin. 

“You okay?” Ian asked, his lips brushing Mickey’s panting lips.

“I’m spectacular.” He beams. His shaky mouth pursing to kiss Ian’s lips. He hugs him with his thighs, his hands stroking his back.

“Spectacular?” Ian grinned, “What the fuck are you saying?” his smile growing wider.

“I feel spectacular,” He kisses Ian’s eyes, “Amazing,” He kisses his damp temples, “Incredible.” He kisses Ian’s cheeks, “Sensational” He pecks his lips lightly, “Loved.” Mickey lifted his gaze, blue eyes boring on green ones. He brushed his fingertips, trembling slightly, as he caressed Ian’s cheek. “I feel so loved, Ian.” 

Ian lifted his face and looked at Mickey. Eyes soft, lips plush and swollen, cheeks flushed, absolutely beautiful. He stroked his face, thumbs grazing the swell of his lips down to his jawline. “I love you, Mickey Milkovich.”

“I love you, Ian Gallagher.” He leans in and smiles, claiming Ian’s smiling lips with a kiss. 

Ian slowly walked his hands from Mickey’s jaw down to his chest as they kissed, the palm of it just above his beating heart. Every pulse, each throb of his heart, vibrating rhythmically on Ian’s palm. He savors it, the feel of blood flowing through the network of veins, aorta, valves and ventricles, to know that there is life underneath the warm skin, strong muscles and bones of this beautiful man in his arms, serving as his anchor, his lifeline.

_Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub._

He knows it, knew it for some time now, that Mickey has got his heart, and he has his. And Ian will hold onto it for as long as he can, for as long as they can stay in love this way. 

  
  


_________ 

September 16, 2006

4:18 AM

  
  


Someone is giggling, he can hear it vividly. There is somebody who is making these vibrant, chaotic soft sounds that came in bursts, like he’s trying to control it, but he can’t. Ian knew its the dead of the night, knew that he needed more sleep, cause he is fucking exhausted. He can’t deal with this, doesn’t want to open his eyes, nor move and find out who this asshole is whose shaking the bed, squirming in his arms, its shoulders and head moving uncontrollably, its hair tickling the tips of his nose. 

Ian opens his eyes and looks down and sees Mickey giggling. 

“Mick,” he rasps, “Babe, what’s so funny?”

He stopped for a moment, then got into another fit, but this time he speaks, “he’s flying.”

“What?” Ian peered at his face, “What are you talking about?”

Mickey squirmed and raised his hand, eyes still shut tight, “He was riding his skateboard and then whoosh, he flew.” he smacked his lips then giggled again, his lips shaking with delight.

“Huh?”

“He flew, whoosh.” Mickey waved his hand then dropped it on top of his pecs and snored.

“Mick?” he nudges Mickey’s face up with his right hand and sees his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, soft snores coming out from his lips.

_Mickey is dreaming in his sleep and apparently talking._

Ian smiled and palmed Mickey’s jawline. He closed his eyes and laid still, exhaling a long breath. He began to doze off when he heard it again, Mickey giggling.

“Mick, Jesus.”

“Brian said I could do it.”

Ian opened his eyes, his mind wide awake all of sudden. He wanted to know what Brian said Mickey could do.

“Do what, Mick?” He gripped Mickey’s shoulder and hiked him up to his neck, their faces within inches to each other. Ian saw Mickey smirk, his lips quirking on one side. 

“Fly on a skateboard.” He huffed with a high pitched giggle. “Want to fly. Whoosh.” Mickey’s mouth pouting in the end.

“Uh kay,“ Ian sighed. “Yeah, you will fly someday, Mickey.”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?”

“Uh hmmm, tomorrow. You’re coming with me.” Mickey exhaled slowly, body relaxing in his arms.

“And who am I, Mick?” Ian asks. 

He waited for him to reply, but all he’d heard was deep quiet breathing, Mickey’s hand twitching on top of his stomach. Ian shifted, his hand stroking the sides of Mickey’s forearm. He watches the ceiling for a few minutes, the moonlight shining softly through the skylight, making obscure silver shadows in the room. He yawned and curled Mickey’s body to his, his foot hooking underneath the other boy’s ankle. Ian tightened his hold, nuzzling his face on top of Mickey’s head. He hears a loud hum followed by a long sigh from Mickey.

“Mick?” he whispers.

“Mmyriiannnghh.” Mickey mumbled.

“What did you say?” Ian said softly, tilting Mickey’s head back and saw him pursing his lips, opening it quickly then smacking it close. 

“Mmmmyyaaannnghh.” he mumbled louder.

“What?” he breathily said back. 

Mickey nuzzled his cheek on Ian’s bicep and spoke with a small smile on his face, “M-My Ian.” he exhaled, his mouth parted slightly as soft snores coming out of his lips. 

Ian chuckled and kissed his forehead. He pressed his lips on Mickey’s skin, breaths him in, exhaling air from his nose, spreading the warmth on his forehead. Ian continued stroking Mickey’s bare arms, making tiny circular motions on his biceps. “Ssshh, go back to sleep, my Mickey. We’ll fly away tomorrow.”

He buried his face in Mickey’s hair, a slight frown forming on his lips. Ian sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes stinging with brimming moisture. He sniffled and blew air through his pursed lips, his hand gripping Mickey’s body tighter. Ian listened to Mickey's soft snores, the silent rumblings from his parted lips that lightly tickled the skin on his neck. He let his mind relish this, the feel of his lover’s warm pliant body on him, their chests rising and falling in unison with every intake and exhale of breath, the sense of just being here, together. 

They’ve got barely eleven hours left. He’s got eleven hours left with his Mickey, and Ian is hoping, praying this trip would never end.

  
  


________

  
  
  


September 16, 2006

8:15 AM

It’s a quarter past eight and the sun has been beating on his back relentlessly, the sweat stains from his lower back and pits started to darken as the minutes go by. Mickey hunched low, his hands gripping the handlebars, feet pedaling hard on the pavement. He fixed his deep blue snapback on his head, pulling it low enough to his eyebrows, hiding his eyes from the blinding light from the roaring sun. He forgot to bring his sunglasses that is, which for sure was inside the board shorts he’d worn yesterday. 

They were riding along Main Street and just passed a few boutiques and shops that were about to open for the tourists and locals. There were only a few people on the streets, some may have just woken up to have their morning walks or maybe about to take their breakfast from the local deli. They had walked about half a mile from the Inn an hour ago to get their rented bikes at Piccozzi’s bike shop which Ian had contacted a few days prior to their trip. He assured him that they have the perfect bikes that are pretty much the same as his ever dependable Schwinn bike. They were clad in their most outdoorsy outfits, Mickey wearing his light sheer gray V neck shirt over his navy blue Bermuda shorts, while Ian decided on a light blue crewneck shirt and patterned slim fitted board shorts with drawstrings. The sun wasn’t as scorching as when they started the day, the sky still soft from above, a cool breeze lingering in the air. They both decided to wear their zip-up hoodies that morning, him with his black one with green stripes on his left chest and right shoulder and Ian with his white Nike’s one. He had told him that it would be wise to wear a cap and their sunglasses, cause it might get really hot by midday. But Mickey was so distracted, so very distracted that he had forgotten his sunglasses, hence him almost getting blinded by the searing sun when he decided to look at the sea when they passed it a few minutes ago.

“Fucking sun.” he grumbled.

Ian pedaled faster, trying to catch up to Mickey. He slowed down for a moment when he was calling Johnson, telling him he might spend the night with Mickey today. Johnson reminded him that they have to drive to Connecticut before sunrise, and he already packed all his stuff. Ian told him to tell Peter and Brett to check his apartment and have some of his stuff taken there before they arrived when he noticed Mickey speeding up and seemed to have gained some distance in front of him. He immediately ended the call and started pedaling fast.

“Hey, Mick. Wait up!”

Mickey was in his own head, berating himself with every pedal of his feet along the Sag Harbor. He is severely hot, sweat dripping from his neck down to his back. Mickey was squinting so much he could barely see where they’re going. He thinks his arms and legs are getting sunburned, because he’s so warm everywhere, every fucking exposed part of his body feels like it's on burning. _Like literally everything._ Even his ass is burning. It is burning and is sore, but why the heck is he liking this feeling, like with every bump and jump of his ass on the bike seat, he secretly loves it and he thinks he’s going insane. And he’s mad. He’s so mad and cranky and fucking hating Ian right now.

“Fucking stupid ginger and his surprises.” Mickey murmured. “fucking giving me stupid creepy looks while we’re dressing up.” he huffed while moving his legs faster, swiveling up and down, the wind blowing on his face, momentarily cooling his sweat drenched face and arms. “Stupid, fucking lips that won’t stop kissing me making me forget stuff.” he stood up from the pedals then sat down again, wincing as his buttocks hit the seat. “Fucking Gallagher choosing these god damn bikes that doesn’t have soft bike seats making my ass sting more.” Mickey muttered under his breath.

“Mick, wait!” 

Ian finally caught up with Mickey, riding beside him on his left side. He held onto his seat and looked at Mickey’s face. He had his mouth in a tight line, brows so furrowed the lines in his glabela getting so deep. Mickey grumbled something, his mouth opening then closing, his jawline tensing and untensing, like he was in an argument with himself.

“Mick, hey.” Ian hollered at him, “We should slow down. Go left on the next turn.” He turned his attention on the street, making sure there’s no crossing cars or pedestrians. They passed by the old windmill as they turned the corner. “Here, Mick. Let’s stop here.” 

They were in front of the Big Olaf’s store that seemed to have just opened. Ian parked his bike, putting it on the rack right in front of the store, Mickey following him still murmuring under his breath.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. What’s wrong Mickey?” Ian grabbed a hold of Mickey’s hand just as he was securing his bike at the rack. 

Mickey huffed, his eyes fixed on the ground, hands clasped tightly on the handlebars. He is so angry, angry that they had to go biking when it’s fucking eighty seven degrees out, angry that his eyes hurt from squinting trying to look at the road, angry that the coffee he had an hour ago wasn’t hot enough, angry that he forgot to wear his chamois and his ass is killing him, angry that in a few hours they have to go back to Manhattan and not see Ian again after today. He doesn’t know, wasn’t even sure when he’s going to see him again, or what will happen to them, and he’s just angry, so very angry, frustrated and fucking sad that this may end up sooner that he had expected.

“Mick. Babe. What’s wrong?” Ian coos. His thumb making gentle strokes in the underside of Mickey’s wrists. “Tell me.”

Mickey made a face then took off his cap and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He made sure the lock clicked when he brushed off Ian’s hand on his wrists. “Is there somewhere else we need to go?”

He still wasn’t looking at Ian, his eyes kept hovering around the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, eyebrows in a constant furrow. Ian studied his face, observed how his hands and feet kept on fidgeting the longer he stared at him. There’s a blush on his cheeks that seemed to spread, the tips of his ears and neck started to flush, his mouth quivering a bit as Mickey looked past Ian’s head.

“We going for ice cream, firecrotch?” He said shakily, brushing his hands on his thighs, “I hope they have cookie dough.” Mickey sniffed and squared his shoulders as he walked past Ian.

“Mick.” Ian said softly.

“Yeah, man.” Mickey cuts him off, “It’s so fucking hot I might get a double scoop.” he hurriedly strode to the door and opens it, the cool breeze of the AC hitting his face. 

“Good morning,” said the young man behind the counter. “I am about ready for you. Give me a few seconds.” He started tying a striped apron around his hips and flipped his snapback backwards. Mickey strode at the display freezer and looked at the ice cream selection. There were probably twelve flavors in the cabinet, some still had their lids on. He looked up and saw on the wall a blackboard with handwritten list of the flavors the shop is selling. Mickey saw something he liked, actually it’s his favorite. 

“Yes.” he exclaimed softly under his breath. 

“You seeing something you like?”

“Yup.” Mickey said, looking back at the guy behind the counter with a small smile. He estimates the guy to be maybe around their age, maybe a couple years older, give or take. The guy was looking at him, eyes scanning all over his face and body. He has chocolate brown hair, his cap turned backwards, a bunch of his bangs got caught in the back straps. He has bluish grey eyes, with slender nose and pale thin pinkish lips. There is a group of freckles on the side of his mouth, just below his lower left cheek, that looks like a small group of constellations. The guy has several tattoos on both his arms that looked like doodles, the most prominent one is a big fat bird on his right forearm. He was smirking at Mickey, eyes bright with mirth on them. Mickey stared back, one of his eyebrows raising. 

_Seriously?_

“Take your time, man. I can wait.” 

Mickey pursed his lips and took a step back, bumping on somebody. 

“Oops.”

“Mick.” Ian lowly said, grabbing his elbow.

“Oh hey. Uhm...” Mickey exaggeratedly squints his eyes to the guy’s name tag and says out loud, “Louis,” He waved his hand in front of him, “is still prepping up. Might take a few more minutes.”

“No, I’m ready. What can I get you?” He smiled at Mickey mischievously, head cocking on the side.

“Yeah, right.” Ian said furrowing his brows. “Can you give us a minute?” Ian narrowed his eyes at the guy who’s obviously flirting with Mickey. He stepped forward and put his body in front of Mickey and turned around, putting his hand on his shoulders. Ian walked him towards the other side of the store and let out a breath. 

“What is going on?” he said softly.

“We were getting ice cream, Ian.” Mickey sighed, trying to push Ian’s hand off his shoulder, but was stopped when Ian held onto his wrist. 

“No.” He squeezed Mickey’s shoulder and leaned down, looking at him directly in the eye. “What is going on, Mickey?”

He didn’t move, just looked back at Ian as if he wasn’t having a mental breakdown. Mickey shook his head, eyes blinking repeatedly. “I don’t know.”

Ian looked back at the guy who seemed to be preoccupied with other customers who just came in the store. He held out both his arms, hands holding on each of Mickey’s shoulders. He tried to hold their gazes together, but Mickey casted his eyes down and slumped his shoulders.

“Mick, what’s going on?”

Mickey’s lips started quivering, he swallowed and turned his head away. He opened his lips and was about to say something, but a small gasp escaped his lips.

“Okay, we’re leaving now.” Ian whispered. He wrapped his arm around Mickey’s shoulder and guided him out of the store. When they got out the door, he dropped his arm and held Mickey’s hand, bee lined to the nearest wall and leaned on it. He pulled Mickey’s body to him. Ian cupped his face with both of his hands. “What is happening? Did I do something wrong?”

Mickey stayed silent and looked at his reflection on Ian’s eyes. The kind, open, warm eyes of the boy he loves, that sees him, so much more of him that it scares him, scared to the point that he’s almost panicking now that they only have a few more hours together. And it just hit him, it just hit him now that things will change after today, and he wasn’t ready, couldn’t imagine not seeing Ian for long periods of time. And he wanted to cheat time, wanted more time with him. 

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, willing his fear to stay deeply lodged in his chest. Mickey licked his lips and said, “I…” 

Ian thumbed over his jaws, drawing tiny circles around them. He pressed forward and kissed Mickey’s mouth, the other boy sighing into the kiss. They stood by the wall, arms around each other, Ian patiently waiting for the tension to dissipate.

“I feel totally embarrassed. I was…” Mickey gulped, his lips trembling a bit. “I was suddenly afraid of what will happen to us after today. When we’re both back in Manhattan, and you leaving for Yale tonight. And I don’t know, Ian. I don’t know if I’d get used to not seeing you, not talking to you everyday.”

“Why can’t we talk everyday, huh?” Ian arched his eyebrows, “Both of us have our own phones, Mick. We can text and call each other everyday.”

“But, it would be different. You’ll be busy with college…”

“So are you.”

“I don’t even know if I got the money to get into NYCCT.”

“You’ll get it. I’m sure you will.”

Mickey leaned forward and pressed his face to Ian’s chest, “Ugh, why is this so hard? Why do we have to go back to our lives and not just stay here?”

“We can come back, Mickey. We can always come back here.”

“How? You can’t just say that.” he murmured under his breath. “We can’t.”

“We can make this a yearly thing.” Ian gently rubs on his shoulder blades.

Mickey raised his head from Ian’s chest, face scrunched, eyes blinking with his lips rounded. “What are you saying?”

“We can do this every summer, spend a week here in Shelter Island. Together.”

Mickey stepped back and looked at Ian’s smiling face. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Nope.” Ian wound his arms around Mickey’s waist, legs spreading wide, pulling him closer to his body. “This can become our thing, our tradition.” he said softly.

“Our thing.” Mickey said slowly. “Like you and me…here. Just the two of us?”

“Well not unless you want to invite some of your new friends in school, which I would veto to be honest. But yes, just the two of us.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Ian smiled crookedly at him.

Mickey stepped closer, his arms wrapping around his back. “I love this place, Ian. Everything about this island, I love it.”

“I know. That’s why I said what I said. We can make this our thing. Every summer, we can spend a week here together.” he leaned in and brushed their noses together.

“But what about Olivia?”

Ian froze for a moment, then nodded pursing his lips. “She will always be out there, Mick.” He flicked his eyes and looked past Mickey’s head, then turned it back to his face, “But she will never be here,” Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and placed it on top of his chest, right above his heart, eyes boring to him. “This is your place, Mickey. Right here.” he gave him a warm smile and continued, “And this island is ours. No one will take this away from us.”

Mickey exhaled, “I’m being fucking dramatic, aren’t I? Ruining our vacation like a fucking idiot.” he pouted.

“Nah, you’re good.” He laughed under his breath. “Besides, everybody can be dramatic,” pressed his nose on Mickey’s cheek, “or be needy, sweet, small baby sometimes.” he giggled, pulling Mickey closer to him. “My baby.” 

Mickey's eyes widened and smacked him on the butt, “I am not small!”

“Small, lovely,” Ian quickly pressed his lips to his mouth, “silly baby.”

Mickey pouted, his forehead wrinkling. He tried to look mad but Ian smiling at him, all playful and warm broke his false façade. He giggled and squeezed Ian’s waist. “Okay fine, I’m small. Just because you’re a fucking ginger gigantor with a pretty face that I like looking at a lot.”

“You find me pretty?” Ian cut.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop fishing for compliments, Gallagher.” Mickey scrunches his face. “I was told I was getting ice cream. C’mon, don’t want to keep Louis waiting.” he stands up straighter and turns around but not before winking at Ian. 

“Uh, oh. Wait.” Ian pulls him back, “No. You stay right here, I’ll order for us.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I don’t want you anywhere near that store today. Especially to that guy.”

“You are such a fucking dork, you know that?”

“Pssh, as if I didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

“But you’re still a dork.”

Ian tugged Mickey back to his chest and kissed his cheek, “Yeah, but I'm your dork.”

Mickey bit his lip, “You’re impossible.” but leaned into the kiss. He pushes Ian away, “Go, get going and get my ice cream, Gallagher.”

“As you wish.” Ian giggled, pinching his left cheek then strode back to the store leaving Mickey smiling back at him.

  
  


________

  
  


Same day

12:10 PM

  
  


“So what did you decide to buy?” Ian asks Mickey as he flips a second hand paperback copy of Moby Dick on his hands. 

They have been in the Black Cat bookstore for a few minutes now, Mickey wanting to check out some books and probably get some trinkets from the island before they leave. Ian said they could probably make a quick stop somewhere before they have their lunch at the Baron’s Cove. It seemed like, this is the perfect time to cool down after they toured almost the entirety of the island these past few hours.

_The bike ride took them more than four hours to get to all points of the island, which started at Main Street going to Sag Harbor where they made a quick detour to see the Sylvester Manor. Ian suggested for them to check out the petting zoo in the property and maybe take some photos with the animals. There were a few horses, goats, cows and alpacas, all grouped together in their own fenced enclosures. Ian had been here before as a child with Emilia’s children, all of them squealing and giddy every time the goats or the cows licked their hands when they were trying to feed them._

_Over by the far side of the manor is the stable with four adult horses. Ian observed how Mickey’s eyes grew large when he came up close to one of the horses and reached out and touched its nose. He pulled out his phone and took a picture just when Mickey brushed its mane and the horse seemed to lean in to the touch and nuzzled on his hand. It took him by surprise when Mickey asked to ride the horse, upon which the handler subsequently asked him if he knew how to ride it, and Mickey unexpectedly said yes. The man assisted Mickey up the stirrup and he elegantly swung his right leg over the animal’s body and straightened his body once seated on the saddle. They trotted for a few minutes, the handler’s hands wound tightly on the extra reins that are attached to the headstall of the horse. Ian snapped another picture when Mickey passed him, waving his hand towards him like he was in a show. They made a couple of rounds before Mickey decided he’d had enough and would like to go to the alpacas and goats so he could pet and feed them. Ian snapped a few more photos of Mickey when he was whispering, somewhat cooing at the animals, gently brushing their fur and touching their faces. He felt so enamored by watching him, like he was blissfully happy being surrounded by these furry animals. After spending more than forty minutes at the petting zoo, they thought it was time for them to go to the beach and possibly take a swim for a few minutes._

_They took their bikes and rode to the West harbor to get to Sunset Beach, but not without passing the Ernst Niezvestny Sculpture Gardens that has a short bridge going to North Haven that directly leads to the Sunset Beach. There were not many people outside, maybe because the sun was scorching hot and they had wanted to stay indoors and have their ACs on. But to Ian and Mickey, they would rather swim and enjoy the beach before they had to go back to Manhattan in a few hours. Also, by them swimming, it would mean it would get the sweat and grime off their bodies, cooling them off after being under the sun for quite some time._

“I’ll take this Encyclopedia of Architecture and Great Expectations.”

“Okay, give it to me.” Ian places the book he was holding back on the shelf and approaches Mickey.

“No, I want to buy it.”

“I’ll buy it and give it to you as a gift.” Ian smiled, he reached for the books on Mickey’s hand and pulled them from him.

“Ian.” Mickey blinked at him.

“Mickey.”

“You’ve already paid for the trip, let me buy this.” He said, raising his eyebrows.

“This vacation was for us, to get to spend time with you. These,” he shrugs, inhaling a deep breath through his nose, “Are just for you.” Ian grabs the secondhand books from Mickey’s hands then pecks him chastely on the lips then quickly walks to the cashier, whipping his platinum AMEX card.

“Okay, first of all,” Mickey strode to Ian’s side, “I haven’t paid for anything in this vacation. Not a dime, Ian.” Mickey said, mouth pouting, arms folded across his chest. “Second, what if I changed my mind and I don’t want to get these books anymore.”

“Don’t you want to get them?”

“No...yes. Look, that’s not the point.” He waved his hand in the air. “What I’m saying is, you can’t keep paying for me, Ian. You don’t have to spend so much money on me.”

“I like spending money on you.” He tilted his head to the woman behind the counter and got the bag from her, “Thank you so much.” handing the bag to Mickey.

“But Ian, that’s not right.” He gets the bag and puts his hand inside the loops of the reusable bag.

“What’s not right? Making my boyfriend happy?” Ian holds Mickey's elbow, leading him out of the store towards their bikes.

“Wait,” Mickey abruptly turns to him, “Are we...boyfriends now?” he looked at him, wide eyed, licking his lips.

“What the fuck, Mickey.” Ian turns, eyes snapping on his face. “What do you think?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure. You never called me your boyfriend.”

“Wait a goddamn minute. Do I need to tell you again how much I love you and that you’re the only person I want to be with?”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re boyfriends.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey?”

“Listen, I’ve never had a boyfriend, Ian. How the fuck should I know about this stuff.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey,” Ian exasperatedly said, confusion wrinkling his face. He bit his lower lip and chuckled, wrapping his hands over Mickey’s wrists, his hand enveloping the entirety of the back of his hand. He cleared his throat, smiling at Mickey, “We are boyfriends, idiot. We’ve been boyfriends since I kissed you in the park.”

“What, that early?” Mickey smirked, but not hiding the smile blooming on his face.

“That early.” Ian nodded. “I knew even before then, actually. But you were just so dense you didn’t realize we had been exclusively dating for more than a month.”

“Are you calling me stupid, Gallagher?”

“I would never.” Ian wrapped his arms around his shoulder, Mickey’s body automatically leaning into him. He kissed his temple and said, “but, you know what,” he hugged him tighter, swinging their bodies from side to side, “We can be stupid together. Cause I’m absolutely stupidly in love with you, Mickey Milkovich.”

Mickey snorted and pinched the soft skin on his waist, making Ian let him go. “Fucking gigantic sap you are.” He smiled widely, and bumped his hips to Ian’s. “Let’s go, boyfriend.” extending his hand to Ian, “Let’s go get our lunch.” 

  
  


_______

  
  


Same day

2:45 PM

  
  


It has been years since Ian had been back in Shelter Island, he felt it was eons ago that everything was still simple, unadulterated, carefree. His eyes moved to the far off horizon, to the blue-green water, its waves lapping in a steady rhythm, crashing on to the white sands with a soft hiss. Mickey’s eyebrows flutter as the cool breeze touches his face, his mouth slightly open as he breathes in through his lips, a soft whistle escaping as he exhales through his mouth. 

They decided on taking a nap outside the Inn, borrowing a hammock that was set up on two upright poles near the shoreline, a makeshift cloth as its roof. Mickey was sleeping on top of him, his right arm laid on top of his chest, his left sneakily wound underneath his right armpit. Ian’s right leg dangles on the side of the hammock, he moves it from time to time, making the hammock swing. But he tries to stay stationary as much as possible, and doesn't want to disturb the tranquil state of his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._

The word still makes him stupid giddy, light and freakishly happy. He can't believe they’ve haven’t told each other they _are_ boyfriends. Ian felt it was obvious, like the need to say or even talk about it would seem redundant and nonsensical. They’ve been dating each other exclusively for more than a month now, well technically more than three weeks, but still. Mickey practically carried him into his life like a huge sack of potatoes. Literally. He had never even thought of saying that word would make things more clear, sure, official. And now, after saying it, he liked that, to being official. That there would never be any cloud of uncertainty between them, that he can entangle himself in Mickey’s life, his heart, his body without any doubt. He loves that, and it seemed Mickey loves it as well. And he wants to make Mickey happy. Always.

After that long talk about each other’s fears and incertitude, they were able to soothe away some of the worries they have in the future. The ones they can control, the idea of certain liberties they can enjoy with each other outside the false façade of his life. Everything is hopeful for now, and the sense of making this work is more doable, feasible. 

There’s a joy in knowing that, the feeling that they can continue this sweet romance. And he accepts it, the possibility of maybe along the way, something may try to get this away from him, challenge this serenity. It may surge into him, to them like waves. A chill creeps up on his chest, but he knows, and he is certain, that they will ride it together. With every fiber of his being, as his boyfriend sleeps in his arms this moment, that he will not hesitate to create a future with him. That's his promise to Mickey, and it's as steady as the ocean, as endless as the horizon, as bright as the sun in the sky.

________

  
  


Same day

4:52 PM

  
  


Mickey flicked his gaze to Ian’s face. He was looking out into the sea, his face was soft, sweet, calm. They were standing on the railing of the ferry boat, hands clasped in between them. Mickey squeezes his hand and he turns his face towards him with a small smile. 

“What?”

“I just want to thank you… again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I really liked this trip.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“So, you’re dropping me off to my apartment later?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Okay.” Mickey sighs. He ran his hands through his hair, his bangs flopping with the sudden strong breeze. He looked out into the sea, and watched the seagulls flying in the sky.

“You have plans later?”

Mickey licked his lips, “I’d probably just sleep, have instant noodles for dinner. I have work tomorrow, so… nothing special really. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Ian said, nose scrunching, “That maybe you have some extra noodles in your place to share with your boyfriend.”

“Wha…” Mickey stuttered, mouth hanging open then closing, “I thought…” his brows furrowing, “I thought you’re leaving for Connecticut tonight?”

“Nah,” Ian moved closer, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s shoulder, “Wanted to spend more time with you. Told Johnson we can leave in the morning.”

“But….” He looked up at Ian’s face, “I have to work tomorrow, and uhm… we can’t. Uhm, I mean…”

Ian shakes his head, then presses his lips on Mickey’s temple. “I said I wanted to spend more time with you, Mick. We don’t have to do anything else. Eating ramen while watching Simpsons tonight would be just perfect, baby.” he tightened his arms around him, humming as he nuzzles his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. “Anytime with you is perfect, Mick-mick.”

“What did you just say?” Mickey flinched, trying to push his head off Ian’s shoulder.

Ian held on to Mickey’s body, fitting their bodies impossibly closer where it’s still decent, like they won’t be charged with public indecency by the ferry police. He shuddered in uneven breaths as he tried to contain his bubbling laughter. It was only minutes ago when he thought of the nickname. 

_Ian was looking at Mickey as they were shoving their stuff inside their backpacks, and on his hand was a Hawaiian shirt that Mickey had apparently bought in a local store in Main Street while he was buying their ice cream._

_“I have something for you.” Mickey quickly said as Ian folded his used clothes on top of the bed. He hands him an orange plastic bag that is neatly folded in half._

_“What is it?” he tilted his head at him and accepted the bag from Mickey. He flips the bag, side up then side down on his hand. “You don’t have to give me something, Mick.”_

_“It’s nothing, “Mickey sniffed, wrinkling his nose, “I just thought it’s cute.”_

_He opened his arms and Mickey tucked himself in his body and hooked his chin on his shoulder. Ian kissed him on the neck and took a breath in his nose._

_Hmmm, my Mick-mick._

_The name. It came tumbling down quickly in his mind and easily in his mouth, which he hasn’t uttered loudly yet, but it rolls off his tongue naturally._

_Mick-mick._

_He smiled, lifting his face off Mickey’s neck. “Thank you.”_

_“You wanna check it out, want to know if you like it and… well, you’ll know.”_

_Ian unfolded the plastic bag and pulled the thing from inside of it. It was in another plastic bag, and he had to peel off the tape that secured it inside. When Ian took the thing out of the plastic bag, it appeared to be a shirt, printed red, short sleeved Hawaiian button up shirt._

_“Oh my god. How.. where did you buy this?”_

_“I uhm…” Mickey drawls, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I sort of ran to the store we passed by going to Big Olaf’s, the Flying Point?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, the surfing store?”_

_“Uhm, I had this idea that I wanted to get you something nice, a bit cheap, but figured would still look good on you.”_

_“A Hawaiian shirt?” Ian quirks an eyebrow._

_“Stop, listen.” Mickey smiled, his eyes going wider. “I didn’t have enough time, okay. And you were like… you thought of all this on your own, and I wanted to give you something to remember the trip by.”_

_“You don’t need to give me something to remember this by, Mickey. C’mon”_

_“Look, I even bought a matching one. But it’s not red though, I bought the green one, ‘cause I don’t want us to look like that kind of couple.”_

_“What is that kind of couple, Mick?”_

_“Like matchy-matchy.”_

_“But I want us to be matchy-matchy!” Ian teases, his lips brushing underneath Mickey’s earlobe._

_“No. I don’t want us to look stupid, duh.”_

_“And us wearing Hawaiian shirts in Manhattan will not make us look stupid?”_

_“As if we are wearing the shirts at the same time, Ian.” Mickey chuckled._

_“But I wanna wear this shirt when you’re wearing your matching one too, duh.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Say that again once you see how the shirt looks on you.”_

_“I would definitely look good in this shirt, Mickey, especially when we’re matchy-matchy.”_

_“What are you saying?”_

_“We can wear the shirts now, Mick.” Ian happily said._

_“And why in the hell are we doing that?”_

_“Cause I wanna be matchy-matchy, now. Period.”_

“Mick-mick.”

“Are you just saying this cause you wanna make fun of me buying you this shirt?” 

Ian looks down on Mickey’s green Hawaiian shirt, the hems flapping along the breeze of the air. 

“Nope. I thought we looked really cute, to be honest.”

“You do realize we look like cabana boys who should be serving drinks in the main deck.”

“Nope. We actually look like two boys who are ridiculously in love, wearing their stupidly loud Hawaiian shirts out on the bow of the boat.”

“I agree.”

“Oh wow, Mickey Milkovich finally agreeing with me.” He extends his right arm up in the air and does a fist bump. “Fuck, yes.”

“Okay, calm down, Gallagher.” Mickey burst into a small laugh. He gently digs his fingers on Ian’s back, holding him tighter. “I agree.”

“To what, mister Milkovich?”

Mickey drew a quick breath and looked at his boyfriend fondly with a smile on his face, “That we are ridiculously in love with each other.”

Ian leaned in and pecked Mickey’s lips, his hand cradled the back of his head with one hand, the other gently rubbing small strokes on his back. He pulled back, a loud pop reverberating on the air.

“Yeah, we’re so fucking ridiculous.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** there are a lot of places mentioned in the chapter, and all of them can be found in the island. the only thing that is not accurate are the proximities of these places with each other and to what part of the island they are in. ssooorrryyyy :( but man, the petting zoo in the manor though, is super cute tbh.  
> *** again, I had another idea for this chapter, sadder, angstier?? but then, this is like their vacay before college and they'll defo gonna miss each other and I want them to have this, something really fun, light, sweet. ssooozzz...  
> *** and also, thank you to y'all who kept at it, kept on reading my not-so-small fic. I really, sincerely appreciate it. lots of love to y'all. stay safe. WEAR YOUR MASKS, PLEASE!


	18. Call Me Whenever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's always two sides to every story, the good and the bad. but are you ready to know the bad stuff, are you really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I can barely look at you.  
> But every single time I do  
> I know we'll make it anywhere.  
> Away from here.
> 
> \- Run by Snow Patrol

September 17, 2006

3:02 AM

  
  


“Hey, go back to sleep. I’ll just…” Mickey pulls the duvet over Ian’s body and kisses his forehead “go get ready for work.”

“No, I’m up.” Ian says, voice still gruff from sleeping. He clears his throat. “I’m up.”

“You don’t have to get up. You can stay until Johnson picks you up.”

“No, I’m...” Ian pushes the duvet off of his body by his feet, the sheet crumpling at the foot of the bed. “I need to get ready too.” 

“What time do you and Johnson have to leave?” Mickey looks back as he hooks his fingers on the waistband of his boxers.

“Maybe around five? I have an orientation later at ten.” He said back, scooting at the edge of the bed, both feet planting on the floor. 

“You still have time. Go back to bed, Ian.” Mickey pulls the straps down to his thighs, his boxers dropping to his feet. He grabbed the garment from the floor as he walked towards the bathroom. 

“Yeah, uhm… I’ll drive you to the L.” He replied, rubbing his face. 

“What?” Mickey’s hands stopped as he reached for the doorknob, looking back at Ian.

Ian stands up from the bed with a boyish grin on his face, “Yeah, I wanna drop you off before I go to Connecticut. It’ll be faster too, you know. Don’t need to tire yourself out by biking to the L this morning.” He took a few steps to Mickey, his hand going immediately at his waist. “Babe, c’mon.” Ian nudges Mickey forward, “We really need to go shower… like now.” 

Mickey huffs, his face scrunching as he places his hand over Ian’s hand. He opens the door to the bathroom, wide enough for Ian to walk beside him, flipping the switch on as they took a few steps getting into the room. 

“We gotta be quick, okay. No hanky panky.” Ian said lowly in Mickey’s ears as they reached the shower.

“You telling me or you telling yourself?” Mickey peered at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, we need to hurry up so I can still have a few extra minutes with my boyfriend.” Ian kisses him on the cheek as he takes off his clothes and discards them on the floor.

Mickey exhaled and chuckled, “You’re never gonna get tired of saying that, huh?” he pushes the clear shower aside, “That word can easily lose its charm, firecrotch. Just saying.”

“I will say _Boyfriend_ as much as I want to,” Ian steps into the tub, his left hand turning the knob clockwise, his right holding on to Mickey’s waist. “And I won’t get tired of saying it to you, or to anybody that you’re my boyfriend.” He pulls Mickey towards him, “C’mon, the water’s warm enough.”

“You wanna get your stuff first?” Mickey tilts his head, his eyes closing as the droplets of water pours down his face. He gathers some water in his mouth and swishes it from side to side then spat it out. 

“Stuff?” Ian plants his hands on Mickey’ belly, the moisture of the pouring water cascading down their bodies. 

“Your shampoo, body and facial wash? Your stuff.”

“I don’t need it.” He grabs the strawberry scented baby shampoo from the shower caddy and pours dollops of the liquid on his palms. Ian rubbed his hands on top of Mickey’s head and spread the lather all throughout his hair. “Lean down please.” He scratches his fingers on Mickey’s nape and temples, earning him a soft moan from his boyfriend as the bubbles poured down porcelain tiles.

“You’re pretty good at this. You’ve done this before, wash somebody’s hair?”

“Nope, you’re the first.”

Mickey smiles under the shower and places his hand on Ian’s hip, pulling him close to his body. “I’m liking your technique, not like what I used to have in barber shops.”

“Why, do you have your barber naked under the showers washing your hair too?” Ian says, with a slight lilt in his voice. 

“Yeah, sometimes when I wanna avail their extra services.” Mickey chuckled, his shoulders shaking a bit.

Ian smacks his palms on Mickey’s chest, “You’re such an asshole.”

Mickey turns around laughing, whipping his hair to the side. He tip-toed, tilting his head up and bit Ian’s chin as he saw the scowl on his boyfriend’s face. “You’re so fucking easy.”

“Don’t ever make a joke like that, Mickey. Ever.” he slides his hands on Mickey’s lower back and pulls him in. “I’m the only one that gets to wash your hair while showering. Okay?”

“Just while showering. Noted.” 

Ian glared at him under the shower, his green eyes boring into his blue ones.

Mickey looped his arms around Ian’s shoulders and reached up, running his fingers through his hair. “I really never pegged you as the jealous type. Not in a million years.” he said as his nose wrinkled, grinning amusedly.

“Look,” Ian sighed, squeezing Mickey’s hip. “I just… I’m just not good with sharing, alright. It’s honestly a bad trait, I know. But...” he groans, burying his face on Mickey’s wet hair. “I just want you all to myself.” Ian sucked air through his clenched teeth. “All just for me.” 

Mickey pressed his face on Ian’s chest and took a large breath. “I am all just for you, Ian. No one else.”

“Fuck. We’re not doing a good job at making quick showers, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mickey tilted his head up and smiled at Ian. “My turn to wash your hair.”

Ian looks at Mickey, eyes soft, smile even softer. “You think your short arms can reach my head, tiny?”

“Fuck you!” Mickey stomps on Ian’s foot making the other boy jump. 

Ian’s right hand reached out to the nearest wall and started howling with laughter. He got his other hand planted firmly on Mickey’s waist, pulling his body towards him. Ian pushed his face on the crook of Mickey’s neck and giggled. 

“I’m sorry.” His mumbled in Mickey’s neck laughing, “I’m sorry. C’mon, we really got to hurry. I don’t want you to be late for work.”

“Yes, sir.” Mickey raised his hand and made a half-assed salute.

“What, we in the army now?” Ian snickers, getting the bottle of shampoo again from the caddy, flipping the cap open.

“Nope, I was trying to get the boy scout kind of vibe actually. Organization for young men training for combat is not really my thing.” 

“Noted.” Ian says back.

“You should’ve done a scout salute, you dork.” he chuckled. Mickey held out his hand, “Here please.” 

Ian smiled and poured out the fruit scented liquid on his palms. Mickey reached up his hands to his head, Ian leaning down a bit to make it easier for his boyfriend to work up a lather on his hair. His hands slid from his hips, flattening them on the swell of Mickey’s ass. He squeezed the firm mounds lightly, his nails scratching the smooth flesh.

“Also, as if there’s a difference between the two. It’s still young boys being subjected to unnecessary authoritarian power to fight for a war they did not create.” Mickey accidentally tugged on the ends of Ian’s hair, making the other boy wince. “Oops, sorry.”

“Hey, we’re just taking a bath here. Don’t rile yourself up for nothing, Mick.” Ian pressed his forehead on Mickey and rubbed their noses together. “C’mon, we gotta hurry up, babe. You only have a few more minutes, I don’t want you to miss the train.”

They finished up in a hurry, hands scrubbing on any surface it could get. Steam began to rise from the warm water fogging up the entire room. Tiny rivulets of moisture start condensing on the walls, making Ian’s hands slip from time to time as he tries to keep their flushed bodies erect. Mickey kept on bending down to rub his calves and feet with soapy water, his ass unknowingly rubbing on Ian’s semi hard on. 

“Jesus, s...stop moving. You’re making me hard.” He gripped Mickey’s hips harder, the other boy stilling mid bend.

_Fuck._

Ian decided right at the moment that it would be faster for Mickey to get to work if he drove him there, giving them extra fifteen minutes, more than necessary for them to maybe have this before they do stuff separately. He can drive fast, fast enough that maybe he could give them extra five more minutes to do something together one more time.

He kissed the center of Mickey’s back, his left hand sliding to his stomach, his right hand turning the tap close. 

“Mick.”

“Ian.” Mickey turned around and was pushed to the slippery wall. He braced himself, both hands plastered at the hard surface on his back. 

“We’ll be quick, I promise.” Ian pressed himself forward, pulling Mickey’s body on him, lining their groins together. He cupped Mickey’s face and kissed him hotly. Mickey arched up, arms wounding around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He hoisted his right leg up, hooking it on Ian’s left calf. They began moving, rubbing on each other’s bodies, making small undulating motions. Ian brings his right hand in between their bodies and wraps it around their hard cocks. 

He brought his lips to Mickey’s ears and whispered, “You ready?”

“Yeah… yeah. J-just…yeah, fuck. C’mon.” Mickey panted, hands linking behind Ian’s head. “Ian, c’mon.” he almost growls, hiking his leg higher.

“Jesus.” Ian nipped his jaw, lips dragging down to his collarbones. He started moving his hand around them, making tentative pumps at first, until he got a regular rhythm. Ian began sucking on the skin in between the juncture of Mickey’s neck and shoulder the faster his hand moves. 

“Mmmmppphhh. Faster Ian, faster.” Mickey mewls. He clings on the other boy’s neck, his tongue darting to take a long stripe on Ian’s cheek. “Faster.” arching his body higher with every movement of Ian’s hand.

“Mick. Fuck.” Ian’s left hand held Mickey’s ass, steadying their movements as he quickened his pace. They were all grunts and moans, limbs straining with their position. “I’m... ”

“Oh, fuck. Ian.” Mickey cried out, cum spurting from his cock.

Ian made two more fast pumps when he felt himself spilling on his hand, his eyes shutting tight.

“Fuck, Mickey.” His teeth biting on the other boy’s collarbones. 

Their bodies began to tremor with the intensity of their orgasm, Ian’s legs almost giving out.

Mickey held on Ian’s body as he rode his climax, his back straining on the wall for support. He rubbed Ian’s back, from his waist up to his shoulder blades. 

“I got you.” He murmured. “I got you.”

“Mick.” Ian’s body slackened on top of Mickey, legs becoming wobbly. He took a huge breath, chest ballooning with exertion. He exhaled through his clenched mouth, his eyes began to sting as he took on a few more large breaths. _I need more time._

“Sshh.” Mickey said as he felt Ian’s body trembling, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” he whispered, lips pressing softly on his cheeks and eyes. “We’re going to be okay, Ian.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, his body enveloping him fully. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if I can let you go.”

“You have to. I need to go to work. You need to go to Connecticut.”

“I know, I know. Just…” he leaned his head back to look at Mickey. “Few more seconds, Mick. Please, just a few more seconds.” Ian kisses him tenderly, their lips pressing softly. He thumbs in the dimples on Mickey’s back, drawing small circles around them. 

He began to smile into the kiss, as he heard a soft hum coming out from Mickey’s mouth. He looked up, their eyes locking. 

There was an understanding to them that this may be the last time they will be together again for a few months. Ian mentally counts them, _three months._ Three months until winter break. Three more months until he sees his Mickey.

“Promise me you’ll text me all the time. No matter what you’re doing. No matter what time. I’ll read them, and I’ll text back. I promise.” Ian whispered, fingers grazing slowly on his spine.

“I will.” Mickey’s eyes flutters, breath hitching as he feels the air around them getting heavier. “I promise.”

“Mickey, tell me everything that’s going on with you. I don’t care if you’re just getting ramen noodles or coffee, just…”

“I will.” He murmured back. He took a breath before he tilted his head to the side and gently kissed Ian’s mouth. The other boy gasped, mouth opening wide. Mickey sucked on his upper lip, tugging it gently in between his teeth. Ian pulled Mickey’s lower lip, dragging his tongue over it. Ian tightened his arms around the other boy, bodies so close, no amount of space can be found. 

Mickey pulled his head back and made a final peck on Ian’s lips. “We need to get going, Ian.”

Ian sighed, a small shaky smile on his lips. He swallowed, his throat tightening a bit. “Okay.” he exclaimed. “Okay, Mickey.”

They both untangled their arms around each other and grabbed the nearest towel Ian could reach. They slowly rubbed themselves dry, and walked hand in hand to the sink to brush their teeth. Both were looking at each other, not leaving their eyes off each other as they did the most simplest tasks of getting ready for the day, rummaging to the closet and their bags, grabbing the clothes they would wear throughout the day. Every instant that they could touch each other, whether it be Mickey putting on Ian’s belt, or Ian brushing his hands on the lapels of Mickey’s uniform, they indulge themselves with it. The simplest touches they can muster in the few minutes that they have left. 

“I have something to show you.” Mickey said, as he walked back to his closet. 

Ian raised his eyebrows as he turned to look back at Mickey, hands stilling from putting his dirty clothes in his backpack.

“I’ve got… I’ve had this for before I met you. I know, this may look bad, but I swear…” Mickey brought out the brown globe trotter luggage from his closet with Ian’s initials on them. He hasn’t opened it since he’s got it inside his apartment, didn’t even have the need to look into it. “I thought you should have it back.” Mickey shyly said.

Ian fixed him a stare. “You… had it all along?”

“Uhm, me and Joe. We got a call to get all the trash in your hotel a few weeks ago. This,” Mickey drags the luggage to the foot of the bed, “was in the bin. I thought…” he looked down, shoulders slumping.

Ian breath hitched, looking at the luggage in front of him. He had expected Mickey to maybe have seen it, but not exactly the bag with him. The luggage never even crossed his mind since he’d lost it, brushing away the possibility that Mickey may have seen it, or the idea that maybe he has it, or have it with him. He actually doesn’t care a whole damn lot, genuinely not at all. Not even felt troubled if he doesn’t get it back, or where or who possessed his overpriced luxury luggage that he can easily replace anytime. 

He approached Mickey, his eyes never leaving his face. Ian reached out, his left hand circling the other boy’s wrist. “You… I don’t really need it, Mick.” the pads of his thumb brushing the inside of his wrist. He brought his right hand to Mickey’s chin, tilting it up. “Do you want this, Mick?” Ian’s eyes searching his face. “You can have it if you want to?” 

“It’s not mine, Ian.” He said with a small smile. “It’s yours. I just found it.”

“Do you want to have it?” His lips pursing forward, eyes soft on Mickey. “I don’t need it, Mick. I… I can share it with you. We can share it.”

“What… why?”

“You like it, liked it enough to keep it and not sell it.” Ian smiles at him, quirking an eyebrow. “You do like it, right?”

“I do, but…” Mickey said, throat bobbing. “I stole it. I’m… I’m returning it to you. You don’t have to share it with me.” his cheeks flushing, eyes looking at Ian wide eyed.

“Did you really steal it or just found it in the trash? Look, I own the damn bag. And what I’m trying to say is, I want to share it with my boyfriend and he can use it for whatever, as long as he wants.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss the corner of Mickey’s lips. “Okay?”

“But…”

“No buts, we share the bag. You and me own the bag now, Mick.”

Mickey huffed. In his mind he thought this conversation would go the other direction. Him and Ian arguing about the luggage, Ian accusing him of stealing the bag, Ian telling him he had lied to him for weeks and not telling him he had the bag with him, hidden in his closet. He looked back at the discarded bag on the floor, and read the initials engraved on the soft leather.

“ICG.”

“Yeah, ICG.”

“That’s your name. Your initials.”

“Yeah, as long as I’ve been alive. Yeah, Ian Clayton Gallagher.”

“Okay. ICG.”

“Yours is MAM. Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.”

“Yeah.”

“MAM. Hhmmmm.” Ian hummed, hand stroking from his arms up to his shoulders.

Mickey clicked his tongue, “Why are you saying my initials like that?”

“Nothing.” Ian sing-songs. “It’s just funny that it sounds like Ma’m. Like I’m calling out to some southern bell from Georgia.”

“Are you making fun of my name, Gallagher?”

“No, ma’m I wouldn’t dare.” Ian giggled, eyes shining with mirth.

“I fucking hate you.” Mickey dug his index and middle fingers to Ian’s sides, pressing hard as Ian laughed, wiggling away from him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Ian’s body shakes, bending his body from side to side, trying to get away from Mickey’s fingers. “I swear, I’m not making fun of you, Mick. Stop! We have to get dressed, Mick!” Ian said as he swatted Mickey’s hands away.

They tumbled then fell, Mickey’s ministrations halting as they hit the hardwood floors. He found himself on top of Ian, his hands holding on to his hips, Ian’s on his biceps. Both were breathing hard, chest rising and falling, hot breaths from their opened smiling mouths touching each other’s skin. Ian brought his hands on Mickey’s face, palms cradling his jaw. He thumbed his cheeks, thumbs barely brushing his lips.

“You make loving you so fun. You’re so much fun, Mickey.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. Loving you is so much fun, Mickey Milkovich.”

“You…” Mickey sighed, eyes shining at him. “Make me love you so much fun, Ian Gallagher. So, so fun.” He pursed his lips forward, his plump lips pressing lightly on Ian’s. They shared a smile for a few moments when Mickey suddenly remembered to check the time.

_Fuck._

“We… need to get ready.” Mickey turns his head, neck straining towards the only clock in the room, the wall in his small kitchen. “It’s almost three twenty. I have to be at work at four. Shit.” he pushed himself off of Ian’s body, both palms planting firmly on his chest.

Ian tightens his hold on Mickey’s arm, stopping him from getting up. “I’ll drive you to work. That’ll give you a few more minutes to spare.”

Mickey halted his movement, brows furrowing, tugging his lower lip by his teeth. “You sure? I mean, do you have the time to do that? I don’t want you all tired on your orientation, Ian.”

“Yeah, Mick. I can…” Ian looked at the time from his watch, “I can sleep in the car while Johnson drives us to Connecticut.”

“What if there’s traffic when you go back to Manhattan, and you don’t make it in time on your first day?”

“I can always borrow the jet, Mick. Easy peasy.” He smirked and winked at Mickey.

“Ugh, I fucking hate rich people.” he tried wiggling from Ian’s grip, but all it did was make Ian have a better grip on his body, his arms widening on his back.

“Not all rich people, babe.” Ian purses his lips, mouth touching Mickey’s pouty ones. He deepens the kiss, sucking on the other boy’s full lips. Mickey melted into the kiss, his hand slowly moving to Ian’s jaw. They both leaned back, a faint smacking sound coming out from their lips.

“Let’s go, Gallagher. I wanna see how you can drive out of Manhattan to Brooklyn in thirty minutes”

They both scrambled to get up, Ian making sure he’s got all his stuff in his backpack, Mickey getting his vest, his boots, his gloves, phone, wallet and phone with him. It took them exactly three minutes, another minute to kiss and hug each other before going out from Mickey’s apartment.

Ian pulls his phone out from his jeans just as they got inside the car. “Johnson. I’ll be back in the hotel before five. Get all my things ready, we got to be on the road before the sun breaks. Yeah, uhm, you’ll be driving us to Connecticut later.” 

He turned the ignition, and looked in the side mirror making sure there’s no incoming cars on the road. Ian backed up and maneuvered the car towards the street. There were not many cars on the road that morning, no impending traffic going out of the metro. He looked to his side and saw Mickey watching the Hudson River as they passed it. Ian places his hand over Mickey’s thigh, squeezing it, making the other boy look back at him.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Mickey sighed, he laced his fingers on Ian’s hand, eyes fixed on his face. “Yeah, me too. So very much.” 

“We’ll take it one day at a time, okay.” Ian looked back quickly in the road then brought his eyes back to his boyfriend. “One day at time, Mick.”

Mickey sniffled, he knew this day would come, knew it would probably hurt like a bitch saying their farewells. But they had to do this, had to make it less painful, to make constant reassurance that everything will be okay, everything will be fine in the end.

“Alright, okay.” his cheeks flushing, lips quivering a bit. “Okay.” he said again.

Both took a breath at the same time, eyes not wavering from each other’s faces.

“Okay.” Ian finally said

He turned his face towards the road, his hand still on Mickey’s thighs, clasped tightly by the boy he loves. The boy who he’s willing to do just anything, risk everything, for as long as he can. 

  
  


_________

  
  


September 17, 2006

8:48 AM

  
  


“Sir, we’re already here.” 

Ian slowly opened his eyes and shifted from the back of the car, sight bleary from lack of sleep. He looked through the window and saw a few students walking the streets with luggage and boxes in tow. 

“What...” He asked, voice gruff from just being woken up. He starts rubbing his face with his hand, his fingers scrubbing the crust off his eyes. “time is it?”

“Almost nine in the morning, Sir.” Johnson said as he parked the car in front of an apartment complex, “I’ll move the car to the basement parking lot later once I drop you off to Woolsey Hall.”

“Yeah, okay. Did Brett get all my luggage inside?”

“Yes sir.”

“Johnson, you don’t have to keep calling me sir. We’ve talked about this before.” He sighed loudly. Ian opened his side of the door and stepped out of the car, pulling his backpack with him. “I’m..” he looked back briefly, “gonna go upstairs and freshen up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

“Ian.” Johnson called back.

“Yeah?”

“The keys.” Throwing him the keys to his apartment.

“Oh fuck, yeah.” Ian catches it with his right hand. “Unit four right, second floor?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Be back in a bit.”

He walked up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. There were only two units for each floor, a total of eight for the whole building. Two buildings down the block is Olivia’s apartment, which apparently he promised to visit after his orientation. She has been in Connecticut for a few days, saying that since she’s an incoming junior, she had to prepare for the general assembly of her sorority. For some reason, Ian doesn’t get the idea of having an apartment when most of the time, she stays in her sorority house. It’s such a waste of money and time to maintain two places at once.

Once on the second floor, he turned left and found the door to his apartment. At the foot of the door is a floor mat that says ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’ on opposite sides of the small rectangular rug. He smiled and thought of who among his employees had thought of this. He guessed Peter, since he’s the only one who’s got a son living out of state for college and happens to have a quirky sense of humor. Ian has to remind himself later to text Jordan and ask him about living in a university. He sort of missed talking to some of his friends when he started going out with Mickey, not that he felt bad about it, it's more that being with Mickey is enough for him. More than enough to be honest.

He pushed his key in and thrusted his left shoulder forward opening the door. Ian scanned his eyes throughout the room, noticing several of his luggage forming a long line perpendicular to his couch. He dropped his backpack at the beige square armed sofa and grabbed one of his luggage to the next room. 

Ian opened the door to his bedroom and saw a dark grey upholstered queen size platform bed at the center with a couple of two-drawer dark wood nightstand on each side. He dropped his luggage on top of the mattress and unzipped it open and looked inside the bag. In it are a few of his shirts, some chinos and a couple of his denims. He brought everything inside out of the luggage and started laying them on top of the bed. Ian pondered for a few seconds on the outfit options and opted to wear his dark, relaxed fit jeans with a light brown long sleeved crew neck shirt. Ian thought this would be cool enough to wear in seventy eight degree weather, and he assumes, since it’s the first day, all the activities will be done indoors. He wishes everything is indoors cause he wouldn’t like to be sweaty and sticky after the day is done. Also, he thought, he can always come back to his place and change into something lighter if it gets too hot during the day.

He looked at his watch and saw he had thirty five minutes until his orientation. Ian footed his sneakers off and unzipped his beige chinos, grabbed the clothes he decided on wearing during the day and hurriedly went to the en suite. He flipped the switch on and saw Brett and Peter had all his essentials inside. 

On top of the sink is his electric toothbrush, his razor, shaving cream, facial wash, moisturizer, his Kiehl’s amino acid shampoo and conditioner laid out in a straight line in front of the mirror. Ian sighed, like the sight of all his things that are so familiar felt unfamiliar at that moment. He wanted to be brought back to a place where he felt safe, at home. Ian ran his hands through his hair, and scratched his scalp. He had a whiff of the sweet and fruity scent permeating his nose and began to smile. Ian thought he already took a shower at Mickey’s a few hours ago, and he liked the smell of the strawberry shampoo that still lingered on his head. There’s no need to take another shower, and he decided that maybe just washing his face and brushing his teeth would suffice.

_Twelve minutes._ He’s got twelve more minutes until the start of his new life. College boy. _Wow._ Who would’ve thought that the moment that he had waited all his teenage life, to make new friends, get as much knowledge about life, history, business and people, seemed to be unappealing to him right now. The excitement that he previously felt a few months ago of being accepted at Yale and the possibility of having relationships outside his circle waned so much, he dreads going to the orientation. 

_Fuck._

Ian had to remind himself, he signed up for this, knew from the start what he had to do. And he better make the most out of it, the best way that he can.

He walked back to his room and stood in front of the large full length mirror that stood beside the door of the bathroom. He looked at his reflection and noticed some wrinkles and creases on his shirt. Ian smoothed his hand over his chest and stomach, making sure to tame the folds enough that people won’t notice it. As if people would be constantly looking at him today, in that big hall, with almost twenty three hundred freshmen that would start the year. 

Yeah, he’s just going to be a needle in a fucking huge hay stack. No one will ever notice him.

At the inside pocket of his luggage he remembered seeing his short bristled brush, cologne and pomade. He took three large steps to get to the bed, extending his left hand to grab the brush and cologne then walked back in front of the mirror. Ian brought the brush through his hair and decided to pull all his hair back, parting it slightly on the side and spritzed the cologne on his neck and wrists. He checked on the time again and saw that he had eight more minutes before the orientation and about forty minutes until Mickey’s lunch. Ian smiled and turned his head to the six-drawer double black woodgrain dresser and found the packet which had all his paperwork that he had to bring to the admissions office. He grabbed it and got out of his room and went to the couch to get his wallet, phone and the discarded apartment keys beside his backpack and proceeded out of the unit. If he doesn’t leave now, he’ll definitely be late, and Ian doesn’t do late. 

The corridors to the Woolsey Hall were crowded with people, a lot seemed to be navigating their way to the big auditorium with as much cluelessness as Ian. He found himself standing at the back of the huge space, right in front of this big eight foot tall awning window on the right side of the auditorium, watching everybody in front of him. To Ian, everything looks so chaotic that he was beginning to get dizzy with the commotion. 

He started watching everything around him. On his left were a couple of boys that were busy fiddling with their phones and snickering with something funny on the screen. About a couple of feet away from him, he sees a girl with a lip ring wearing an orange beanie, with purple hair. She had a blue checkered flannel on and black skinny jeans with unlaced black Doc Martens. Ian averted his eyes quickly when he saw her look back at him with a raised eyebrow and pushed his hands further inside his jean pockets. Farther away from him, almost to the steps going down to the main floor where all the seats were, he notices a few douchey looking guys that were whispering to each other then chuckling as they point at random people inside the room. There were also the band geeks who had their instruments with them, as if they would be asked to perform anytime during the orientation. On the far end of the main floor, near the entrance is a group of Asian guys and girls that sort of congregated together, all of them just standing meekly on the side of the room. 

The more he watches everybody laughing with each other, making small talk, the more he feels alone. Ian thought to himself, it would’ve been better if he had somebody with him right now, to maybe talk to or just stand next to even in comfortable silence just so he wouldn’t so anxious. And right now, he felt so anxious that he pulled his phone out and started texting.

Ian: wish u wer here wid me ryt now.

_________

  
  


Same day

12:06 PM

  
  


“Mickey, come here.”

Antonio Menendez, their department supervisor shouted out to him as he stepped inside the district’s garage. Mister M, as Mickey often called him, waved his hand at him, and opened the door to his office. Mickey hiked his bag on his shoulder and walked towards the room, a few eyes following him. He felt uneasy for a moment, like he was expecting some STI test results or something. Mickey pulled the door closed as he came inside Mister M’s office, and gave the older man a small smile.

“Hi, Mister M. What’s up?” 

“Have a seat, Mick.” Tony sees Mickey take the chair in front of him, the young man looking at him with questioning eyes. “I received an email this morning, and I…” He turns the monitor to Mickey, showing him the email. The boy leaned in and squinted his eyes to read the letter. “want to be the first one to congratulate you. You got into NYC Tech.” Tony sees Mickey’s eyes widen then clasps a hand on his mouth. “They just sent me this email, when you were unable to email them back since you’ve turned in your application. Where were you, Mikhailo?” Tony turns the monitor back to him. “The email said they’ve been trying to get in contact with you for five days?”

“I… uhm,” Mickey bit his lip, hands fiddling on his bag straps, “was out of the city for a few days.” he slowly said.

“That’s good. A little vacation before school is not bad.” Tony said, as he rereads the email. “It says here they’ve sent you a packet and a few emails about your acceptance to the course. Also that you have a private donor for your matriculation. Good job, Mickey. I knew you got it in you.”

“What?” Mickey blinked.

“Yeah, there’s a private company who accepted your financial aid application. They’ll be sending the checks directly to your school every semester.” 

Mickey stared at his boss for a few seconds, mouth agape from this big news that was just dumped on him. He stayed motionless, his brain trying to remember the last time he checked his emails. His phone had remained untouched in his backpack the whole time he was with Ian on the island, never even having the need to see if he had any messages or calls in the three days that they were out of Manhattan.

“Mick.” Tony says, his eyes glued on the monitor. He peeked from the side of the screen when he didn't hear the boy say something back “Mickey?” He repeated. 

Mickey jolts as he hears his name, “Yeah.”

“Your semester starts in seven days, maybe that’s the reason they were trying so hard to get in contact with you. I will get your name out of the roster starting today, but you still need to work tomorrow, okay. And you don’t need to worry about HR about sending them your two weeks notice. I’ll handle that.” He starts an email and says, “You want a few days off before you start school next week? I can have you off the clock by Wednesday so you can do all your preparations then.”

“Why… how are you so cool with this?”

Tony stopped mid typing and pushed his chair away from the table. He rolled it to the side, so he can look at Mickey for what he is about to say.

“I know you think people don't have your back, Mick, but we do. There are a lot of people who believe in you. You what,” He tilted his chin up and continued, “worked for me almost two years? A few months in and you’ve single handedly fixed the time clock system in the department that IT have been trying to fix for a year. Which reminds me,” Tony pulls out some folders under his desk and places it on top of the table, “I would ask you to go over this and put some notes cause I want to be able to understand that shit about the timesheets and attendance tracking system you’ve written up on the white board in the rec room. Even Tricia is having trouble understanding your chicken shit handwriting.” 

He stands up and walks around his desk and sits at the edge of the table standing in front of Mickey, arms crossed in front of him. “We know how hard your life was, Mick. And I for one know a good opportunity presenting itself to the most perfect person when I see it. And this is your chance, Mickey. I don’t want you wasting your youth and brains here when you’ve got the whole world out there for you, just waiting for you to take. Seize the day and some shit, son.” Tony pats Mickey on the shoulder, shaking it a bit. “You deserve it.”

Mickey’s swallowed, his mouth suddenly becoming dry. “But, what about my work? Joe will be left alone to do the rounds.”

“Jesus, Mick. You think the old man would mind doing extra work once you're gone? Besides, it’s high time he gets a new partner, don’t you think? That guy, Max who’s been per diem for a while now. I think he’s a good match with the old man.” Tony winks at Mickey then walks back to his chair. “So, I’ll call Max and tell him he’s going to do the rounds with you tomorrow. Teach him some stuff, will yah? God knows he needs to use his brain more often. And also,” He turns and goes back to his chair, swivelling back in front of his monitor. “Congratulations, Mickey.” He smiled fondly at the boy “I’m so proud of you.” Tony says before putting his attention back to his email.

Mickey exhaled a breath and decided that fuck it, he doesn’t usually do this, but the moment called for it. He stood up from his chair and rounded the table giving Mister M a big hug.

“Thank you.” he wounds his arms on his boss’ shoulders “for everything.”

Tony held his arms out and clasped it around Mickey’s waist. “You deserve this, Mick. I’ll always help you any way I can, you understand?” He pats his back then untangled himself from the hug.

“That… letter you sent the school. That helped a lot, Mister M.” Mickey sniffs, as he leans away from the man, standing shyly in front of him.

“Letter? What I wrote in that thing is true and actually does not even cover all the great things about you. Mick, I wouldn’t have done that if I don’t believe in you. You’re a very smart boy, Mickey. You deserve having this chance.”

“I… won’t let you all down, I swear. All you did for me, I promise I will pay it all back in whatever way I can.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t owe me or any of these bozos in this department. You are a great employee, worker and friend to many of the people in this office. You are a good person, Mick.”

“I don’t know what else to say.” Mickey sighed. He held his hands to his face. “I feel like I’m on cloud nine or something.”

“Enjoy it, son. Go home, have dinner somewhere real nice. Call your boyfriend or something, just enjoy the day and get all your shit prepared for next week.” Tony waves him off, a smile playing in his lips. “Go before I change my mind and let you work the entire week.”

“Shit, okay. Yeah, Mister M. I promise, I’ll train Max tomorrow so Joe won't have to do anything than just drive the truck around Manhattan.”

“ ‘kay, see you tomorrow kid.”

“T-thank you Mister M.” Mickey almost trips on his own feet as he hurriedly walks out the door.

As soon as he stepped out of Mister M’s office, he was greeted by a loud cheer and clapping by the many people inside the room.

“Oh my god. What is going on?”

Miss T walks towards him with a cake on her hands, “Congratulations, Mickey.” and pecks him on the cheek.

“Miss T?”

“What, you’re just gonna leave here without any party? Don’t think that little news of yours getting in NYC Tech can pass by me? Had to ask the bakery to rush a cake for you this morning.” She nudges the cake in front of him, making him look at the cake. There was an embossed picture of him on the right side of the rectangular cake smiling cheekily, some doodle art of pencils, books, a bicycle, a cell phone, and other random things that you see in a classroom. At the center is a red candle that was lit up. He paused for a second before blowing it out.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

Mickey looked around the room and saw Joe with Brian, Max, Felix, their security guard, Sophia, his boss’ wife and other people who he had casually talked with for the past couple years of working in the department. 

On Miss T’s table, which was conveniently sat at the center of the room, where a few knick knacks and drinks. A few blue balloons are scattered around, one standing upright for every work space area. Right at the top of the entrance of the office is a huge banner saying ‘Good Luck, Mickey!’. 

“Guys, this is just…” He hiccuped, slapping his hand over his mouth.

Brian rushed to his side, giving him a side hug, “Hey, hey. What is happening to you? This is supposed to be a happy thing, stupid.”

“I’m just… I don’t know why y'all did this for me.” Mickey looked at his friend’s face, eyes watering a bit.

“We’re just so proud of you, Mickey.” Joe stroking his arm, “Ivy said she’s sorry she can't make it. But she made your favorite casserole. Brian brought it with him just now.”

“This is… just too much.”

“Here. C’mere here, Mick.” Joe pulls him by his side and kisses his temple. “We’re just so happy for you, kid. You know we just love you a whole damn lot, right?”

“Fuck. I am just an emotional mess right now. With Ian going to Connecticut this morning, and…” Mickey hears his phone ringing from his work vest, the song _Lips Of An Angel_ diffusing through the crowded room. “I’m sorry, I got to take this.” He squeezes Joe’s hand and walks two steps away from him.

“Hello?”

“Mick.”

“Ian,” Mickey took a few more steps towards the nearest wall. The people in the room getting rowdier as Miss T turns on the office stereo. “How are you doing?” He whispers.

“Where are you?”

“In the office. I just…”

“Mickey, come slice the cake up will, yah? I want the one where your ears are at!” Max shouts from the other side of the room.

Mickey flips him and turns his attention back to the phone call. “Hey, sorry. Today's just been… crazy.” 

“Why, what’s up?”

“Shit, Ian. I got in. I got in!”

“Got in where?”

“NYC Tech.”

“Oh fuck, Mick. That’s such great news. I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“I’m… I wish you could be here to celebrate with me. They… everybody. They just threw me a party. I’m...” He drew a sharp breath. Mickey racked his brain how to properly articulate what he’s feeling at the moment. “I don’t know, Ian. I don’t know how all of this is happening to me.”

“I know. I know, Mickey.” Ian said softly, trying to sooth his boyfriend’s sudden distress. “Just stay calm, okay. They just care so much for you.”

“Uhm, how about you? How was your orientation? I texted back a while ago when I was having my lunch, but you didn’t reply.” Mickey sighed, leaning his shoulder on the wall. “Was thinking you got busy, so I wasn’t expecting you..” 

_Ian received Mickey’s text when he was talking with Olivia. He didn’t know that she was going to speak at the event, wasn’t even aware that she’s going to be in the freshmen orientation when she’s already a junior. Ian was standing idly on the second floor, trying to be invisible, when a few minutes after the start of the assembly, Olivia suddenly appeared out of nowhere, tapping her strappy sandal clad feet in front of him. She pulled him by the arm, dragging him to the main floor to sit beside her while_ **_Bright College Years_ ** _was playing on the speakers of the auditorium._

_There were several speakers in the event, namely the president of the university, department heads of every college, a few outgoing fraternity and sorority seniors and the president of the different organizations and clubs in the university. Olivia, having been chosen by her sorority to speak in front of the crowd, reveled on the attention and gave her most beautiful smile as she names all the past well known alumni of_ **_Kappa Kappa Gamma,_ ** _the many charities their house supports, their mission and vision as an organization and how they are all excited to welcome the new batch of sisters in the coming year._

_He tried to listen to all the people talking at the stage, but ten minutes in, he was zoning out the voices, his mind hundreds of miles away from Connecticut._

“To call. You already had your lunch? It’s like,” Mickey checks the huge circular clock on the wall right in front of him, “twelve thirty two. Or are they all feeding you somewhere fancy?”

“No, uhm…” Ian looked at Olivia flipping the menu at the other side of the table, “I’m about to have my lunch now. I just…” He turned to the side and held his phone closer to his mouth, “called to check up on you. I’m so proud of you, Mick. I hope I could be…”

“Ian, what are you having?” Olivia says loudly, Ian whipping his head towards her.

He quickly covers the receiver and extends his index finger at her, “Just give me a second.” Ian stands up from the table and runs his hand through his hair. “Uhm, Mick. I gotta go. I love you.” he whispers.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Jesus.” Mickey huffed on the other line. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Ian?”

“I love you, Mickey.” Ian softly says.

Mickey smiled, “I love you too, Ian.” he said breathily.

“Have fun at your party. Text me later when you get home, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. You too, I hope everything is okay on your end.”

“Yeah, uhm...” Ian looks back at the table where Olivia is waving the menu at him to hurry up. “Sorry, I need to go. Everything is okay now, babe. Now that I’ve heard your voice.”

There were hooting and jeering sounds from the other end of the line, Ian noting Mickey talking, his warbled voice almost unperceivable. 

“Shut up will yah!” He hastily covers the mouthpiece of his phone, “Ian, are you there? I’m so sorry. Will talk to you later, I promise.”

“Okay, Mickey. Have fun.”

“You too.” Mickey smiled, and said softly, “I love you.”

“Me, too. Call me when you get home, ‘kay.” Ian sighed, “Bye, Mick.”

“Bye, Ian.” 

**CLICK**

Ian looked over his shoulder and saw Olivia talking to a waiter. She slid her eyes towards him and gave him a small smile. He gave her a thumbs up and walked back to the table.

“Everything alright?” Olivia asks.

“Yeah, I just remembered I forgot to tell Johnson that I forgot the keys to my unit. And I” he rubs the back of his neck, “need to go back to get a spare from the landlord.”

“Alright.” She says, as she tried to flag down another waiter.

“Uhm, I think I should probably go now.”

She puts her hand down slowly. “You’re not ordering?” Olivia raises an eyebrow asking. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

Olivia pursed her lips and called for a waiter. “Hi,” She flips her long blonde hair off her shoulders, tilting her head to the side “so I will be having my order to go.” Oliva says sweetly. “I’m really sorry but my fiance has a thing, and we need to leave. If you can just put everything in a take-away box, I would appreciate it.” then gives him her card. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“And what, eat here alone?” Olivia blinked and furrowed her brows, “I can actually come with you.” The waiter comes back with her card and receipt. She momentarily breaks eye contact with Ian, her left hand reaching out for the check. “Thank you.” Olivia said quickly, signing her name on the paper, Ian noticing her leaving a huge tip. She smiled at the waiter then turned her eyes back to Ian. “I can have my lunch in your apartment, Ian.”

Ian's face dropped. He looked down on his lap taking a huge breath, his left leg began bouncing involuntarily. His eyes zoned in on his right hand, which is still holding his phone. 

“Yeah. So I’ll just...uhm, make a quick phone call.”

A beat passed then Olivia huffed arching her eyebrows, “Fine, Ian.”

Ian smiled then ducked away from the table, feet moving fast as he went outside the restaurant. He pushes 1 on his speed dial.

“Johnson,” He rubbed his hand over his face, “Shit, we’ve got a problem.”

_________

  
  


Same day

8:15 PM

Mickey has been reading all the emails sent to him from NYCCT. There were a total of eight emails, including the acceptance letter and the donor for his total matriculation of the next two years. He went to yahoo search and typed in the company name, _PEN Underwriting Company,_ which is an insurance company based in the UK. 

U.K. United Kingdom, _as in Europe?_

He rereads the acceptance letter from NYCCT.

  
  


_Dear Mikhailo,_

_Congratulations! Dean Gerarda M. Shields and the members of the Committee on Admissions would like to inform you that you have been selected for admission to New York City College of Technology. As a member of the Class of 2010, you will be a participant in the creative and academic community that will help hone your talents and intellect, enabling us to continually challenge your unique and valuable abilities to further develop them for your future career._

_It is our pleasure to congratulate you and your family on this achievement and we eagerly await the successes that you will enjoy here in NYCCT._

_The faculty, students and administration look forward to welcoming you into our community that thrives on a multidisciplinary approach and creative collaboration in our academic programs that nurtures an atmosphere of inclusion, respect and open-mindedness in which all members can flourish._

_To respond to your offer of admission, please go to our Welcome Website for the members of the Class of 2010_ _undergrad.admission.NYCCT.edu/welcome._ _If any of the members of the admissions staff can assist you in the days ahead, please do not hesitate to email or call._

_We are excited to have you join us next year._

  
  


_With warmest regards,_

_Gerarda M. Shields_

_Dean of New York City College of Technology_

  
  


Mickey looked at the packet that was sent to him by the college, all its contents scattered on his bed together with gifts that were given to him a while ago during his surprise party. He fondly looked at the new backpack and heavy duty bicycle lock that Joe gave him. Mickey thought, if there is somebody he is thankful for meeting in his life, it’s Joe. He never knew that meeting him in the office after being interviewed by Mister M for a job that he was obviously under-qualified for would completely turn his life around. Not only did he land the job, he gained a friend, a father, a family in Joe. Not to mention, Mickey meeting his best friend in his oldest son, Brian. He thought to himself, he is so lucky to have these people in his life, who had always believed in him, who gave him a sense of family. Mickey promises to himself, he will not let them down.

He stood up and stretched his legs, bent back slowly, popping sound coming from his lower back. Mickey walks to the fridge, his bare feet slapping softly on the hardwood floors. He pulled out the leftover casserole Ivy had cooked for him, taking the lid off the Pyrex bowl. He shoved it inside the microwave oven, setting it up for two minutes, then went to sit on one of the mismatched chairs he had on his small, circular dining table. 

Mickey looked at the time on his digital clock slash radio sitting on top of his dresser and saw that it had been almost five hours since Ian had texted him. The last message he sent was he was going to a welcome party for all the freshmen in his college in the evening and he’ll be calling him once he gets back to his apartment. Mickey knew Ian would be busy today, knew that he probably had so many things to do, he had been so anxious that he texted him during his orientation. _Poor baby._ He’s probably still meeting and talking to different people in his college, and may have also been passed out tired by now. Heck, even Mickey feels tired at the moment. He had felt so overwhelmed with the surprise party, the emails, the stuff he needs to buy and rent. _Jesus, why in the world did he ever think he can do this, like is he really even going to be good at it, being a proper student?_ He sighed loudly, folding his arms on top of the table, placing his forehead on top of it. 

The oven beeped loudly three times, surprising Mickey from his momentary somber state. He stood up, got a couple of paper towels from the kitchen counter and pulled out the container from the microwave. He started nibbling on the hot casserole with his fingers when his phone rang. 

Mickey drops the glass container on the counter and skidded back to his bed, almost tripping himself. His eyes started scanning the mess on top of his bed, his phone nowhere to be found. He lifted the college packet, flipped all the papers, gifts, turned his bag inside out, nothing. His phone kept ringing, his hands going through all the items on his bed again. Right shoved inside one of his pillows, he saw the small screen of his phone lighting up. Mickey hurriedly pulled it out from his pillow and flipped his RAZR on.

“Hello?”

**_Doot-Doot-Doot_ **

“Hello. Hello?” Mickey looks on the screen and sees whoever was calling him had hung up and the words Missed Call 1 on it. He went to the recent calls and saw Ian’s name on top of the list. Mickey pressed redial and heard a busy signal. He dialled two more times and met the same tone.

_Fuck._

He tried again one more time and it went directly to voicemail.

_*The number you are calling is either unattended or out of coverage. Please hang up and try again later. Goodbye._

Mickey started to compose a quick message.

Mickey: hey, sry i missed ur col. r u already home? pls col back if u can. ily 

He closed his mobile and placed it on top of the side table. Mickey tried tidying up the mess he just made while rummaging for his phone, bending down to get the papers which accidentally fell off the bed. He reached under the bed, pulled out a small box containing his birth certificate, government IDs, passport, GED test scores and some pictures he had collected all throughout the years. He placed them all on top of the mattress and started putting everything in order. It took him a while to put everything in place. The acceptance letter, admissions pamphlet, the freshmen’s booklet going back inside the packet, his badge, extra shirt and socks, small first aid kit, wallet and locker keys back in his backpack, the unopened gifts he neatly lined on the wall beside his closet. Mickey left Joe’s gift on the bed, with the intention of switching his current backpack to the new one. 

Time passed and Mickey was so distracted that when he finally had everything in order and had the chance to glance at his digital clock, it was almost nine in the evening. He took his phone from the small table beside his bed and flipped it open. 

Nothing. No calls, no messages. Mickey sits on the edge of the bed and starts texting.

Mickey: hi. hope evrytins fyn. txt or col me anytime. ily

  
  


He flips his phone closed and makes sure to put the ringer on the loudest volume placing it again on top of his side table. Mickey walked to the bathroom and began stripping in front of the sink looking at his reflection in the mirror. He lifted his left hand to get his toothbrush, when he noticed Ian’s green ones beside his, standing upright on clear glass he had on top of the sink. Mickey paused and dropped his hand, putting it on the edge of the sink, head dropping to his chest. He swallowed, then clasped both his hands in front of himself. It’s just the first day of being apart from Ian, and he’s already feeling it, the loneliness, the longing. 

Three months until they can be together. _Can he last that long not seeing his freckled ginger gigantor, who just swept him off his feet a few days ago?_

Day one and his heart is already aching.

  
  


_________

  
  


September 18, 2006

2:12 AM

Ian wakes up to the sound of soft snores. His eyes began moving under his lids, trying desperately to not wake up yet. There is a throbbing sensation at his orbits and it's making him see flashing lights, and he thinks he's starting to have a massive headache. He slowly opened his eyes, his sight slightly blurry. He squinted, trying to take in the brightest source of illumination in the darkened room, this lava lamp that’s emitting weird colors in the darkness. Ian’s eyes began to follow the pattern it’s making, red, blue, green, yellow, orange then back to red. He shifted his head once his eyesight seemed to see generally what’s around him, and started taking notes. On the ceiling are glow in the dark stars, hundreds of them all plastered on the wall, the light from the lava lamp hitting them at various points, washing out the greenish-whitish glow it gives off. He turned his head on his left and saw Olivia. 

_What the fuck?_

He flung himself out of the bed, his eyes wide open, his irises probably as big as green marbles. Ian looked down on himself and found that he’s only wearing his long sleeved shirt and boxers. His head turns in every direction, trying to figure out where he was and why he was with Olivia. The impending headache starts flooding in his brain, he thinks his skull is about to explode. He began heaving, his heart pounding loudly against his chest. 

_Fuck, what the hell happened last night?_

Ian has got to get out of here, wherever he is. He began looking around, trying to figure out where his pants and shoes were. His gaze landed on a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, eyes straining on it. He tiptoed his way to the discarded clothes on the floor and started feeling his way on something familiar. There were a couple of jackets, a shirt and a dress in the pile, and at the bottom are his pants. He quickly grabs it and puts it on, checking on the pockets if he’s got his wallet and phone in them. Ian brings out his phone and slides it up. _Fuck_. No battery. He crawled on the floor, and began to slowly creep out of the room when he heard Olivia shifting on the bed. It was like a sudden shot of adrenaline seared through his veins and he stood up and started running out of the door, running through the hallway, running down the stairs, running out of the building, running out of the street. He just ran and ran, with only his socks on, and his unzipped pants hanging low on his hips. 

_What the fuck happened last night?_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...I KNOW. I'm giving you the angst now, this is the start. There's a lot to unpack here, and the boys are maneuvering their lives away from each other. If there's fluff and sweet stuff, there's gotta be pain too to make them grow stronger apart and together. They need to do this, they have to. College life, guys. Let's go!  
> ***I mentioned Woolsey Hall in Yale, which is an actual auditorium in the campus. I'm not sure if they hold freshmen orientations there, but the place is gorge. Ian is a business economics major in Yale and Olivia majors in business administration.  
> *** NYCCT (New York City College of Technology) is an actual school in NYC. it's a great public college for architectural technology, design and graphic arts, which Mickey is quite good at. I'll write about it on the next chapter, teehee.  
> ***also the luggage! they're sharing it apparently. aaawww


	19. Rewrite The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one boy wanted to get the story straight from the last person he wants to hear the story from while the other just wanted to hear the other boys' voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sun is on my side,  
> take me for a ride.  
> I smile up to the sky,  
> I know I'll be alright.
> 
> \- Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield

September 18, 2006

2:42 AM

It was surprisingly chilly that night. Even with the long sleeved shirt he had on, he felt his body shuddering as he ran with hurried steps on the street. There was a constant buzz in Ian’s ears, _Buzz Buzz Buzz_ and he desperately tried to focus, trying to get that persistent sound off his ears. He evens out his breathing as he kept on running on the road that seemed to be an infinite dark tunnel to him. It was so quiet. The only sounds were his movements. His socked feet thudding on the pavement, the heavy, staggered breathing of his that sounded close to gasping, and his heart throbbing loudly in his chest, his ears began to ache. He has to keep quiet though, has to remain unnoticed. 

But in the state he’s in, Ian was going somewhere and nowhere at the same time. But all he wanted to, needed to do was run, run as far away as he can. 

Ian was panting, sweat dripping down from his face to his neck. He never looked back, didn’t even check which road he was going to. His steps began to falter as his vision zones in on his socked feet which were running and are apparently walking now on a much slower pace. Ian takes a long labored breath in, because he suddenly felt tired, tired to the point he had to stop and let himself stumble to sit down, his ass hitting the ground hard. He ended up looking like a rag doll, his limbs sprawled out on the sidewalk. Ian stretches his legs out on the street, wiggling his toes. He sees dirt and grime on the soles and sides of his socks. Ian thought he needed to throw these in the trash when he gets back to his apartment. Scratch that, Mickey would kill him if he’d known he did that. It would be a bitch to make them decently clean though, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. 

His mind was still amok with what had and what had not happened a while ago and he began heaving again, his breathing becoming erratic he felt he’s getting dizzy. Ian had to clasp his hands to his chest to get a hold of himself, to have some sort of control from the time he didn’t have one when he ran out of that unfamiliar room, ran through that dark hallway, ran down the steps to get to the ground floor, ran out of that unfamiliar building, ran out to this deserted street he’s in right now. 

About ten minutes of sitting in this deserted street with his head hanging low on his chest, his elbows on top of his stretched out legs, his breathing more even and calmer, a car stops in front of him. For some reason, he wasn’t even alarmed by the presence of a car, actually by the presence of _this_ particular car in the dead of the night.

“Ian.”

“Johnson.” Ian says back, his head raising towards the voice, a small smile on his lips. 

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.” He puts his hands to his thighs, pulling himself up by his hips and legs. Ian opens the passenger door, slamming it close. 

“You want to grab something to eat?” Johnson casually asks, his nose wincing as he drives the car, turning left at the next corner. “Maybe a steaming cup of coffee?”

“No. I want Mcdonalds.”

“Okay.” Johnson slows down then backs up, then makes a u-turn going instead to the other direction.

“Where were you?” 

“I’ve been outside Olivia’s sorority house since eight. Been waiting for you to make the walk of shame.”

“Make it a run of shame, actually.”

“You ran like a girl though.” Johnson snorted, laughing softly. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic light to turn green.

“Fuck you.” Ian barked at him a little too late.

“Just keeping it real, Ian.” Johnson smirks, making a turn.

“Fuck. Tonight’s a mess.” Ian sighed loudly, rubbing his face roughly. “Fucking mess.” 

“Is it?”

“I actually don’t remember anything that happened in the last six hours.”

“That’s good. Less things to regret about.”

“You think I did something I would regret remembering?” He turned his head, quirking an eyebrow.

“You tell me. Better yet, ask yourself that.”

“Fuck. I really hope there’s nothing to remember to be honest.”

“Yeah, me too Ian.” Johnson slows down the car, the huge yellow M sign blaring in front of them. “Cause I like Mickey, and I would like to continue liking him for a long time.” He parked the car right in front of the 24-hour fast food store, turning the ignition off. 

“Yeah, me too Johnson.” Ian said slowly. “Me too.”

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  


September 18, 2006

9:14 AM

  
  
  


“So you get how we usually do this, Max?” Mickey looks at Joe's new partner in the eye, making sure he knows the other man is listening to him, “Joe usually drives up at the back and I do the surveying, heavy lifting and returning the bins back.”

Max nods, putting his gloved hands to his face then pulls his lower lip like he’s thinking of something.

“Dude,” Mickey slaps his hands away, “Don’t ever do that. Take your gloves off first if you’re gonna touch any part of your body, especially your face. You don’t know what shit is in the trash.”

“Fuck, Mick. You didn’t have to hit me like that!”

“Are you kidding me? I was saving you, asswipe.”

“From what,” Max’s brows pinched, “germs?” 

“Oh my, god.” Mickey’s eyes widened as he turned around looking at his soon to be ex-partner, “Joe! I’m…” he huffs, walking away from Max “can you please put some sense into this kid.”

  
  


Joe snickers, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by him, “Mick, Max is literally five years older than you and has actually spawned kids.” The old man peers at him with a smirk.

“I don’t care if he’s a middle aged man who’s paying monthly mortgages for his three bedroom house in the Bronx or is giving alimony to his two ex-wives. I don’t...” Mickey gritted his teeth, “I can’t talk to him right now.”

“Alright, Mickey.” Joe squeezes Mickey’s right shoulder, “Just get inside the truck, I’ll talk to Max.” then nudges him towards the parked vehicle on the small alleyway.

He only got around the other side of the truck, not having the energy to get up to the foothold and hauling himself inside. Mickey leaned on the door, crossing his feet in front of him. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, tilting his head to the sky. In the building right in front of him, he sees a man sitting outside his fire escape on the third floor, smoking a cigarette. Mickey exhaled a long breath, taking his gloves off and throwing them on the ground. He lifted his right hand and rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palm. _Fuck, he needs a cig right now._

Mickey was having one of those days. He’s had this constant scowl on his face since he came to work a few hours ago. Joe noticed it immediately, backing away when he swiped his badge to clock in, stomping like a child to the truck as Max followed him like a puppy. 

Today is Max’s first day as Joe’s partner and Mickey, who was told to train him for his last shift at work, is sitting in between Joe and Max inside the truck, grumbling to himself. The problem is, Max has a lot of stories to tell. His stories range from what he had for dinner the night before, the movie him and his kids watched before they slept, what time he woke up, how he wants his coffee in the morning, what his wife pre-cooked for him for his lunch, how long it took him to drive from East Harlem to Jersey, and how excited he is that he finally is in the regular roster and will be working full time with benefits. And Mickey is all but polite initially, giving his occasional smiles or nods, like he’s genuinely into the stories, even though his mind is still a mess from not getting a phone call or a text from Ian the whole night. 

Mickey can only feign as much enthusiasm in the early hours of the morning, and he’s had it. He can’t ignore the worry and anger he’s feeling. And he wants Max to do good, to learn things from him, but he can’t help that he was grumpy, snapping at him in unexpected times. And he’s not in the mood for Max and his stupid questions, not in the mood to come to work to be honest. Mickey gets a cigarette from his vest pocket, his hand shaking as he flicks the lighter, his other hand covering the end of the blunt as a small flame starts spewing from it.

“Fuck.” the tiny spark dissipating.

He flicks his shaking hands, trying to stop them from trembling. Mickey tries lighting up his cigarette again, but another hand with a lighter pushes his hand away, the small red flame igniting the end of the blunt.

“Thanks.” Mickey said, a fume of white smoke coming out of his mouth.

“No problem, bro.” Max replied back. He cleared his throat. “Look, man. I know it takes me awhile to get things, but I’m a hard worker and I need this job. More than you’d ever know.”

Mickey shook his head, “It’s not you, Max. It’s me.” he said. “Today has been a rough morning, I barely had sleep last night.”

“Problem with the boyfriend?”

Mickey shrugged, “I don’t know.” he said with a shaky breath, “I guess.” dropping his gaze to his feet.

“If that’s your answer, that means you guys need to talk.”

“Yeah, talk.” he snorted, running a hand through his hair.

“Were you seen zoned?”

“Seen zoned?”

“Yeah, like he saw your texts but decided not to reply. Seen zoned.”

Mickey took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke slowly, tilting his head to the sky.

“Yeah, he’s seen the texts and for sure, even my missed calls. Shit.” He brushes his forehead with his forearm, “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what happened from the time he left New York yesterday to the time he got to Connecticut. He what,” he waved his hand with the cigarette “texted me a few times saying how he misses me and that he’s going to this damn party.”

“Why, do you think something happened at that party last night? For all we know, he might’ve had a few many drinks and passed out in his bedroom.”

“That’s the thing, a damn text would've told me that.” Mickey huffs.

“Texting you while he’s passed out?” Max cackles turning his whole towards Mickey. “Listen, Mick. I don’t know your boy or what kind of arrangement you have with him right now, but in any relationship, communication is key. We’re what,” Max shrugs, “seven minutes away from our lunch break. Call him. If he doesn’t answer, leave a voicemail. Let him know you wanna talk with him. Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy. Yeah.” Mickey sighed.

“Just, chill. Don’t overthink it. Call him. Me and Joe will get out of your hair while you make that call. C’mon,” Max puts his hand on Mickey’s left shoulder and shakes it, “I want you to go over again which lever I have to pull to not cut my fingers off when I put the bin in the truck.”

Mickey flicks his half smoked blunt on the pavement, the cigarette ricocheting under the recycling bin. He shakes his head, “Max, we’ve been through this four times now.” Mickey said, chuckling under his breath, appreciating how his friend is trying to distract him from his thoughts. He smiles then purses his lips, “Okay, so you put the garbage container here…” walking past Max going to the back of the truck and pointing at the lever for the loader and continuing to show how every button and lever worked.

  
  


_________

  
  
  


September 18, 2006

9:22 AM

  
  
  


About less than an hour ago, Ian woke up with a massive headache. There was this throbbing pain in his head that felt like a sledgehammer was continuously pounding his skull, pulverizing his brain into mushy pieces. He was temporarily blind in one eye at some point, and had to walk, actually staggered walking to the bathroom with just one eye open, because he was blind... in one eye. Ian thought that he may have probably drank more than his body weight last night, may have also not said _No_ to every shot given to him, and may have also missed a certain person that he wanted to temporarily numb his longing state. And he thought binge drinking and practically blacking out in an unfamiliar place with the last person he would like to wake up to would make him forget this certain person, who’s the most important person in his life at the moment was a good idea. Damn, and he’s paying for it now because he’s in literal pain, excruciating fucking pain and he has a class in a few minutes and he thinks he’s dying. 

Ian’s head had been leaning on the bathroom tiles for ten minutes, with the now lukewarm water from his shower streaming down his aching body. He kept on spitting on the floor, like he’s trying to get that rancid taste out of his mouth, like he didn’t just puke all the contents of his stomach a few hours ago. Fuck, he will never, ever drink again. _Ever._

He finishes washing his hair and his body as quickly as he could, dries himself off with the towel that he yanked from the holder, tying it securely around his hips as he goes to the sink. There is a foggy moist on the surface of the mirror, and he wipes it away, letting the excess water drip on top of the sink. Ian sees himself for the first time since he came back to his apartment at past three in the morning. There are dark circles under his eyes, his sclera are red and bloodshot, his lips chapped and dry. There is a weird reddish blue bruise on his shoulder, like he hit something or maybe he was hit by someone. He leans in and squints his eyes, trying to figure out the shape of the bruise. It’s not big enough like he fell and bumped his shoulder first, but small enough that it looked suspiciously like a small bite mark with multiple hickeys around it. 

Ian’s eyes widen, his brain suddenly awake, tiny sparks kept popping in his brain, like its short circuiting with the possible connotation of this mark. This reddish blue bite mark on his shoulders, with hickeys around it. 

_Fuck._

Ian suddenly felt like throwing up again, his stomach lurching and gurgling. He dry heaved on the sink, something sour and acidic rolling up from his esophagus, down out of his mouth. The translucent brownish liquid splatters on the surface of the sink, and it slides down the drain, his watery eyes following the movement. He quickly brushes his teeth, the bristles of the toothbrush scratching the surfaces of his teeth and tongue harshly. A small sob escaped his lips as he spits out the bubbly foam out of his mouth.

He started crying, like he can’t believe he was so hammered he let this happen to himself. Ian doesn’t even remember being with somebody last night, more so hooking up with someone. Ian doesn’t hook up, not anymore. There’s no need for that. _Why the fuck would he even think of doing that right now?_

The room felt like it started to cave in on him, the walls pushing inward. Ian felt like he’s being crushed alive. 

He fell on his knees, dropping on the floor with a loud thud. He curled on himself and tried to control his rapid shallow breaths. _Count god damn it_. One-two-three _In_ , one-two-three _Out_. _C’mon Gallagher, fucking count to three you stupid fucker._ He started to shake violently, salty tears streams non-stop from his eyes to the cold tiled floor. All the thoughts in his head from last night are severely fragmented and the only person he can actually ask is Olivia, to tell him what actually happened last night, and he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even want to be around her. Ian started crying again, tucking his legs closer to his chest, his arms clutching his legs tightly. He laid on the bathroom floor in fetal position for a while, not even thinking of his first class in his college life at ten. Ian’s body began to rock slowly, all the fear of last night’s occurrences starts tumbling down on his already messed up mind. 

“Ian.” somebody says outside his bathroom door, softly rapping on the wooden surface. “Ian?” the voice says again.

The sound of his name made him jump, gasping loudly as he took a huge breath. The hammering in his chest slows down a bit, his breathing following suit. 

“Ian, are you okay?” The voice said and Ian’s registers it coming from Johnson.

_No._ “Yes.” he croaked out, forcing his still shaking body up off the floor. “Yeah, I’m okay Johnson.”

“Can I come in?”

“No. I’m...” he pushes himself up by his right elbow, “just about to come out.” Ian extends his legs, then puts his weight on his knees pulling his body up. He holds on to the sink for support and he gets a glimpse of his sorry self again in the mirror. Ian winces at the sight, he is flushed all over, his eyes puffy and more bloodshot than before. He sees the bruise again and he can’t, can’t imagine where that came from. He turns the tap open and splashes cold water on his face and chests. Ian tightens the towel around his hips and schools his face into something more normal, less morose.

Ian stepped out of the bathroom, not looking at Johnson’s face who’s standing a few feet away from the door. He hurriedly goes to his dresser and gets random clothes out, not even caring what they are.

“I got you coffee, it’s on your nightstand.” Johnson says as he walks away, calculated steps going towards the door, his hand holding the doorknob. “Is there anything else you want from the kitchen?”

“No.” Ian quickly says, both his hands on top of the dresser, head bent low down his chest. He sighs, “thank you.”

“Mickey has been calling you since last night, he called again just a few minutes ago. Talk to him, Ian. You can’t just let him wait like this.”

“I know.” He bits his lips, his eyebrows pinching tightly, his eyes scrunching it begins to hurt. “I know, Johnson. But, I…” he tucks his fingers in forming a fist, his knuckles turning white “don’t know what to say to him. I’m afraid what he’ll ask me from last night.”

“Call him, Ian. Telling him you’re alright is enough for now. The details of last night, the ones you remember, the ones you think are okay for him to hear… tell him that. He doesn’t deserve this radio silence.”

Ian shakes his head, voice cracking, “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You ignoring him right now is already hurting him, Ian. Call him, and tell him you need to talk later, but not right now when your mind is still a mess, when you don’t know the exact details that happened last night. But he deserves at least a call from you that you’re still alive and still thought of him.”

“Okay, I’ll do that now.”

“You have exactly eleven minutes until your first class. Get dressed then call Mickey. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Ian turns his head to Johnson who is standing beside his opened bedroom door, holding his stare. “Thank you, Johnson.” 

“You’re welcome. Ten minutes, Ian.” Johnson walks out of Ian’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

His eyes lingered to the closed door, his heart beating loudly from his chest. He swallowed what little saliva pooled in his mouth, his throat too dry and hurting from heaving a few moments ago. 

_Call him._

Ian’s heart began to pound on his throat, his hands unclenching and clenching like he can’t make up his mind what to do with them. He needs to move, make his body move so he can get on with the day. He grabs his soft grey jogging pants from his drawer and his black umbro long sleeve shirt then quickly puts it on. He opens another drawer with all his hats, scarves and beanies and pulls a black snapback, putting it low on his head. The brim reaching just below his eyebrows. 

On the right side of the room where his desk is his still opened laptop, beside it is his phone. Ian rounded the bed, his feet moving fast towards his desk and grabbed his phone. He slid up the screen and saw four missed calls and six text messages. _Fuck_. He checked on the calls first and three of those were from Mickey, one from Olivia. There were two voice messages and he decided to click on the oldest one.

  
  


**11:17 PM**

_*Hey, Ian. Uhm, it seems (silence)...you’re still at the party and I just want to check out how you are. I hope you’re having a good time, and uhm, don’t forget to drink a lot of water after. You don’t want to have a fucking hang over in the morning, man (snickers softly) it’s gonna be a bitch going to class with one, you know. (silence) So, call me if you can. I’ll be at work later til noon. I love you, g’bye._

Ian checked on the time and saw he only had five minutes left to rush out and go to his class. He decided on composing a message instead of calling Mickey.

  
  


Ian: sry, misd ur cols. tok 2 u l8r. Ily so much

He knew this is a coward’s way out, knew this text is nothing to pacify Mickey’s anxiety. Ian is such a bad boyfriend, and he knows Mickey doesn’t deserve this. He opens the text thread again, his thumbs pressing on the buttons fast.

  
  


Ian: i hope ur havin a gud day, mick. wil col u l8r, i promise. Ily

  
  


He puts the mobile inside his pocket and closes his laptop on top of his desk, putting it inside his backpack. Ian has got Introduction to Financial Accounting as his first class of the day and he doesn’t want to be late. 

It’s only two hours, ending just in time Mickey’s shift is done. He would probably be on his way home by then, or maybe staying a bit in the office to say goodbye to his friends. And Ian doesn’t want to ruin Mickey’s mood by calling him at that time, he knew it’s gonna be difficult for Mickey to leave these group of people he had considered his family for two years. Ian has to wait, maybe after his second class in the afternoon, he thought it would be a better time to call his boyfriend. When his head is clearer, when he’s got the information he needs to placate the deluge of thoughts running inside his mind. He needs to see Olivia today, talk to her and ask her what happened last night, and find out where he’s got this… this thing on his shoulder. 

Ian’s got to find out or else he’ll go crazy, more so get mad of himself for making wrong decisions in his fucking first day in Yale. _God damn it, it’s only day one and he’s already screwing things up._

He took a long breath through his nose, his chest expanding, filling up his lungs with as much air as he could. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, the smell of coffee lingers in the air. _Shit, his coffee_. He needs coffee and his Mickey, but he can only have one now. He sighed, taking two steps to his nightstand, drinking the now cold beverage, almost finishing it with one huge gulp. Ian’s got three more minutes until his class starts, and he’s got to hurry up or else he’ll be late. He rushes out of his room, rushes out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. 

Ian the college boy. Jesus. 

_What the fuck was he thinking saying yes to Olivia last night?_

  
  
  


________

  
  
  


Same day

5:08 PM

  
  
  


“Mick.” Brian knocks on Mickey’s door. “Mickey?”

He’s had his secondhand TV on for hours now, deciding impulsively on getting it from the pawnshop when he passed by it on the way home to his apartment a few weeks ago. Mickey thought that he needs to have a television set inside his apartment, wants to have it to make his small space more homey, more inviting to people to stay in and not just rely on his boring stories. Stories that involved a certain ginger that had promised him that he would call last night and had left a message that he will call again today. Ian sent a couple of texts while he was working, a few minutes after he had just had his lunch break that his boyfriend knew, who Mickey knows has his whole itinerary for the day memorized. _Why text him when he’s obviously working and won’t be able to reply back?_

The flicker of lights from the screen and the sounds coming out from the TV set was and is his only company from the moment he plugged it in and propped it on a stack of magazines and books he had collected throughout the years. A couple of those books were from his boyfriend, who had purchased them for him in Shelter island not too long ago. And they’re all stacked right there on the wall, reaching about two feet high, with his not so new TV set on top of it. 

Mickey has been watching the same channel for hours. And right now he’s watching a game show that has a lot of people shrieking at the top of their lungs, jumping and hugging each other when their names were called by this man with glasses. There are a lot of games in this show, but the most important for the contestants it seems is to turn the wheel with the numbers and make it stop at the exact time when 100 comes up on the wheel. Mickey laid on his stomach on his secondhand, brown leather couch that he bought at the thrift shop right across his apartment building a while ago. It has rickety legs, the ones on the left side seemed shorter than the ones on the right. Mickey placed a makeshift insert at the bottom to make it even and not wobbly.

The thing is, he’s got his last paycheck from his job, well his former job, because he’s unemployed now and will be a full time student in a few days. Mickey bought a few things from his last check this afternoon, which he thought to himself his apartment needed, he actually needed at the moment. And he likes them being there, enjoys using them and he’s just laying on his stomach, his face smooshed at the corner of the couch while he watches this woman shout out a rough estimate of all the prices she may win if she guesses the right price for all of it. And this is truly an acceptable behavior, him just laying on his stomach, with no sleep, nor food in him. Just him being lazy. He deserves to be lazy today. 

Mickey chuckled, as he watched this lady make an underestimated amount on the car and the yacht together with the other prices. He shouted at his TV, “Fucking fifty five thousand dollars!” Yeah, that’s probably a good estimate for everything. He should’ve been the one playing this game. He would clearly do better than this lady who is now looking smugly at the host. _Geez, thirty two thousand dollars for the wine, swimsuits, yacht and car? Seriously? Good luck winning this one, lady._

“Mickey?” Brian knocks loudly, his knuckles beating the door in quick, loud successions. “Hey, Mick, open the door, man.”

He was hearing sounds other than these _ding-ding-ding_ sounds from the TV. It sounded like somebody was thumping on the walls or something. Mickey tries to ignore it, smooshing his face further into the crook of the couch and scowling at the audacity of this person that is disturbing his time of listlessness.

“Fucking open the god damn door, Mickey.” Brian was now kicking the door, when knocking loudly just wasn’t doing it. 

He knew Mickey was home, knew that he had the volume of his TV set on full blast, to the point that the door to his apartment vibrated whenever he heard buzzing sounds. Brian got a text from his father a few hours ago to check on Mickey after he left the office cause he seemed off, like distracted, even depressed. He had called Mickey several times before driving down to his place, even left a couple of messages, but he never got a reply, never even accepted any of his calls. 

“Mick, dude. C’mon.” Brian says exasperatedly.

The door in front of Mickey’s apartment opens, a male teenager with a huge pimple on his nose comes out.

“Maybe he’s dead, dude. You’ve been banging on that door for a few minutes now. Want me to call 911?”

“Mind your own business, kid. Go back inside.” Brian snaps at him.

“Geez, man. ‘was just trying to help. Mickey may have passed out on his new couch. Saw him dragging a big brown one a few hours ago.”

“A couch?”

“Yeah,” the young man scratches his neck, “tried helping him too, but he doesn’t want me to.”

“Okay, good to know. Now get back inside.” Brian waves his hand to the kid.

“You’re not the boss of me. I can do what I want.” the kid snapped back, but not before Brian hears another voice shouting at him, “Close the goddamn door, Timmy. You’re letting the cold air out!”

The kid turned his head around and shouted back, “Maggie, I’m talking to somebody here.”

“Well let ‘im the fuck in. You're letting the warm air in the apartment, stupid.”

“God, fine!” Timmy, the kid’s name, huffs and looks back at Brian with furrowed brows. “If you need help with the body, just holler out and I’ll call 911, ‘kay.” then slammed the door at his face.

“Yo! No one’s dead, fuck.” _Yet,_ Brian thought. Because in this mood that he’s in, he might strangle Mickey the moment he opens his door. He tried banging on the door one more time before he decides to just leave and let Mickey be.

“Fuck, fine. Fine! I’m coming.” Mickey grumbles, pushing his body off the couch. He stomps his bare feet, the pads hitting the floor loudly, like he’s marching. The knocks didn't relent though, even if he already shouted that he’ll be opening the door at any moment. He turns the double lock clockwise making a loud clicking sound, then turns the door knob, the button popping up opening the door completely.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Brian growls at Mickey, pushing him aside as he walks inside his apartment. “Was outside for fifteen minutes, literally banging at your goddamn door.” he continued as he sat at the newish couch. “Oh hey, nice sofa.” Brian utters as his hand brushes on the soft leather of the chair, putting both his legs up on the seat.

“Hello? Did I say you can come in, asshole?” Mickey banged his door closed, pressing the button in on the knob. He turns around and starts walking towards his couch which is now occupied by his giant of a friend, sitting right smack in the middle of the chair with his legs extended languidly, crossed on top of each other.

“Where did you get this, Mick?” Brian asked amidst Mickey’s outburst, “This is really nice.”

“Did you not hear me? I said you can’t come in, Brian.” Mickey huffed, his hands resting on top of his hips. 

“Did you really say that?” Brian craned his neck towards his friend, a small grin on his lips, “Because I’m here to see my friend who seemed to be down and needed some cheering up. You want me to leave and let you wallow on your own? Is that what you really want, Mick? Cause I can leave right the fuck now if you want.” Brian dared, raising one of his eyebrows.

“Who told you I needed some cheering up? I’m perfectly fine watching my show on my new sofa, thank you very much.” He squeezes himself in the little space that was left on the other side of the couch, pushing Brian’s legs off the seat. 

“Dad texted me, idiot. Said you were acting strange the whole day.” he puts one of his legs on top of the other, his long limbs stretching in front of him. Brian puts one arm over the head of the couch, poking Mickey with his index finger. “What’s up, Mickey? C’mon spill it. You’re not gonna be moping around here for nothing.”

Mickey let his head fall on his best friend’s thighs, his head hitting it with a soft thud. He nuzzled his cheek on the rough surface of his jeans, his arms folded across his chest. He sighed loudly, burrowing his face further on Brian’s thighs.

“He didn’t call the whole night.”

“Who didn’t call?” Brian puts his hand on the top of Mickey’s head, his finger running through his hair. “Hmmm?”

“Who else, Bri? Ian of course.” he grumbled, tucking his knees close to his chest. “He said he would call me last night when he gets back to his condo. But he never got to. Last I heard from him was he went to a party. Left me a voice message while I was sleeping.”

“Have you slept yet, Mick? Eaten something?”

“No. I’m not in the mood to eat.”

“Mickey Milkovich not in the mood to eat? Wow, that’s new.” He scratches Mickey’s scalp, his best friend almost purring at the touch.

“Bri, what do I do? I called him a few times already and left messages. I don’t wanna seem like some needy bitch who wants to know everything that’s happening to his boyfriend.” tucking his knees closer to his chest. “Bri, what do I do?”

“Okay, so he never called back, didn’t reply to your texts, right?” Brian dragging all the words out of his mouth, “So, break up with him then, cause he’s a fucking jerk.” He teases.

“Brian, you’re not helping.” Mickey slaps his hand to his knees, making him yelp.

“Asshole, why’d you do that for?”

“Briaannn. Please, I need help.”

“Mickey, it’s only been a day since you guys have been apart. Heck, it’s his first day in Yale, Jesus fucking christ. It can be overwhelming you know.” Brian puts his hand on his shoulder, “I was like a lost puppy for days trying to figure out where my classes were. I’m sure Ian was the same.”

“He did text me though, like a few hours ago that he’ll call me up tonight and that we needed to talk. And that he was sorry he missed my calls and whatever.” Mickey mumbles.

“You see, he did text you back.”

“But that was like hours after I left him a few messages already.” he whines at Brian’s thigh.

“Is this like a competition between you two,” he starts waving his hands, “like who will text whom first or what?” 

“No, it’s not like that…” Mickey grabs one of Brian’s hands and puts it back on his head. Brian automatically pets him like a cat, scratching his scalp tenderly.

“Well just chill the fuck out, Milkovich. You’re stressing yourself out for nothing.” Brian pulls Mickey by his shoulder and rights him up on his side. Mickey sighs, his lips pouting. “Jesus man, just wait for your boy’s call and let me get you something to eat, okay?” He stands up from the couch and strode to the kitchen. “You have anything here other than noodles, Mick? Please tell me you at least have bread in here.”

Mickey fell on the seat sideways, his left shoulder hitting the cushion. “I want pizza.”

“Pizza?” Brian opened the fridge and only found two bottles of Gatorade, half of an apple, half a block of butter and an almost empty 1 gallon bottle of milk, which Brian suspiciously thinks is expired. “What kind?”

“Cheese…. Just cheese. The greasier the better.”

“Okay, you want me to get beer?”

“You buying?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“Yeah? Well pizza’s your treat then.”

“Okay, Mick. Only because of love you.”

“Yeah, yeah you love me” Mickey snorted, “I get it. But I don’t see anybody calling for pizza though.” he amusedly said.

“Alright, fine princess. I’ll call Joe’s now your majesty.” 

  
  
  


Mickey was biting into his second pizza, lips and chin shiny with grease when his phone rang. He jumped from the couch, kicking Brian’s legs out of the way as he hurriedly went to his phone which is plugged in the only socket in his small living room. He almost face planted on his hardwood floors, tripping over himself when he slid the last couple of feet towards the wall. Mickey pulls the cord off his phone and flips it open.

“Hello.” he said breathing hard.

“Mickey, where are you?” 

Ian presses his phone closer to his ear, trying to decipher the sounds around Mickey. There obviously is a show on. Ian hears the familiar tunes from the _Price is Right,_ a lot of voices of people shouting, cheering, probably from contestants and the audience members. But as Ian concentrates and gets to perceive all the sounds, there is a distinct voice that reverberates, seem to be louder and clearer than the rest. He hears the voice laugh out loud, who shouts at most likely to the TV set, _“It’s fucking three dollars and seventy two cents, Becky. Why would you say five fucking dollars! Jesus fucking christ.”_

“Mick, are you…” Ian gulped “alone?” 

“No. I mean yeah, I was… wait. Shit, Brian, shut up.” Mickey quickly stands up from the floor and bolted to his bedroom, which is actually in the same room but is just approximately fifteen feet away from the living room. There is a small wall, dividing the room into two sections. The small living room with his very quaint kitchen and even smaller area for his bedroom that can only hold a few items, meaning his queen sized bed, a two drawer dresser and his desk with a cushioned chair where Mickey decided to sit while he talks to his boyfriend.

“Sorry about that, Ian. Yeah, that was Brian. He uhm,” Mickey said, “Bri just dropped by to hang out. How are you, everything okay?” he pulls his lower lip with his index and middle finger, pinching it repeatedly as he waits for Ian to say something.

“I’m okay.” Ian sighed. His jaw began tensing as he tried to formulate the right words to say. “Uhm, let me start by saying I’m sorry for not calling you up last night.”

“It’s okay, Ian.” Mickey cuts him.

“No. No, Mick. That was not okay. I promised to call you and I didn’t. I was at a party last night…”

“Yeah, you told me that.” Mickey cuts him, eyebrows furrowing. 

“And, uhm,” Ian gulped audibly, “it’s at Olivia’s sorority house. She invited me to their house party.”

“Okay.” 

Ian blew out a quick breath, “We sort of slept together.”

Mickey’s breath hitched, “You did what?”

  
  


_Ian was running, having just had his second class of the day at the Connecticut Hall and he had to find Olivia. Last he heard she was in her sorority house,_ **_Kappa Kappa Gamma_ ** _and that was on the other side of the campus, where all the college residents' buildings are and he wanted to talk to her, maybe tell him what the fuck happened last night._

_Since he’d woken up this morning, he already felt so drained, tired. His professor for his last class, Dr. Joshua Knobe had told them, all one hundred and eighty six of them, to read the first two chapters of_ **_Psycholinguistics_ ** _by Joseph F. Kess and submit a 200 word essay by the end of the week. Dr. Knobe is notorious for giving reading assignments weekly, increasing the number of chapters and words for the essays until you’ve essentially written the whole book by the end of the semester. But he appreciated the fact that he had only stayed in Connecticut Hall less than an hour, giving him ample time to look for Olivia._

_He had walked from the Edward P. Evans Hall a good eighteen minutes, from his morning class to his second class, stopping for about half an hour at Willoughby’s for iced coffee and a bagel. Ian had asked Johnson to not drive him the rest of the day, since he intentionally wanted to orient himself with the buildings around the campus. His linguistics class doesn’t start until two in the afternoon and Ian thought, he’s got time to ask around. When he was walking along Grove street, there was a girl who waved at him enthusiastically, carrying a grey Scottish fold cat, who was looking at him wide eyed. Ian doesn’t really know the girl, but it seemed they have met at some point since she was saying his name like they were friends. The cat’s folded ears perk up as they get closer to Ian, and it’s orangey yellow eyes looking more pronounced, its irises turning into slits._

_“Ian, it’s nice to see you again. Say hi to Ian, Gimli.” and she starts holding up one of the cats paws at him, like it’s simulating a wave. The cat growls then bits her hand, “Oooucch!” The girl drops its paw immediately, putting her injured hand to her lips, sucking on the small wound. “Stop it, Gimli. You’ve been in a mood for days, you little rascal.” She rearranged her hold on Gimli and said, “Glad that I saw you again so soon, Ian. Last night was wild.” then she gives him a wink before she walks away from him._

_Okay, so he met her at the party. Great. Another person he had met and apparently forgotten. And then it occurred to him... Party. Fuck, she was in the party, meaning she knows Olivia._

_“Wait. Wait up.” Ian calls out to her as he sprints to her direction. “I’m sorry, uhmm…” he said breathily._

_“Tracy.”_

_“Yeah, sorry. Tracy.” He smiled at her. “Last night was a blur to me.” Ian scratches the back of his neck. “I barely remember anything.”_

_“Oh I can imagine.” Tracy continued walking, Ian taking a few steps to keep up with her._

_“Why… why would you say that.”_

_“Oh cause you were hammered, Ian.”_

_“Hammered?” He hiked up the straps of his backpack, “Uhm, like how hammered?”_

_“Pissed drunk, silly.” Tracy pets Gimli’s head who seemed to be sleeping in her arms, “We had to drag you out of the bathroom to the bedroom so you won’t freeze to death lying on the floor.”_

_“We?”_

_“Yeah, me and Olivia.”_

_Okay, so she was them last night, in that room, while he was passed out drunk. Okay. Ian walked beside Tracy, his eyes casted down, following her footsteps._

_“So,” his tone dropping, dragging every word, “does this mean...you, me and Olivia?”_

_She barked out a laugh, Gimli jerking from her arms, meowing loudly, “Oh my god, this is precious.” Tracy stops then puts her hand on his shoulder, “Ian, contrary to any young man’s heterosexual fantasy, not all sorority girls are down for a threesome. Besides, I wouldn't wanna be messing around with somebody’s fiancè. I’m sorry, babe. I won’t ever do that.” she chuckles, “Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell this to my girlfriend. Fuck!” then she started laughing again._

_“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” he holds both his hands up, palms out “I’m just not sure what happened last night and I...” Ian bits his lip then continuing, “I just wanna make sure I didn’t do anything stupid last night.”_

_“I don’t think stupid is the right word though, but I think Olivia is the right person to ask about this.”_

_“Yeah, do you happen to know where she is?”_

_“We have class in a few minutes, it ends at three. Do you have class, you can sit in with us if you want?”_

_“Yeah, at two. Can you tell her I’m looking for her?”_

_“Ian, you can actually text her though, duh. Or did you also forget you have a fiancè?” She narrowed her eyes at him._

_“No,” Ian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “I sent her a text an hour ago, and she hasn’t replied yet. I really don’t know her schedule to be honest.” said then pursed his lips._

_“Oh bummer. Well, okay, if I see her in the house, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her. I need to drop Gimli there before my class. Just took him for a quick walk.”_

_“Okay, thanks Tracy.”_

_“Alright Ian, bye. Say buh-bye to Ian, Gimli.” She nudges the cat’s head to Ian. Gimli just looked at him passively, his eyes bored and uninterested._

_“Okay, see you around Tracy. Bye… uhm, Gimli.” He stutters, quickly waving at them, turning to the other direction making sure to get to College street fast. He looked at the street sign and saw that they were at Church street, maybe ten, twelve minutes away from where he was originally._

_Ian almost had a slip up. Shit, he’s got to probably text Olivia now, which he should’ve done to begin with. He was so distracted, so upset that his usual logical thinking was skewed. Ian even forgot to call Mickey, and opted for an easy way out of texting him a very vague, very generic text. Jesus._

_He pulls his phone out from his pocket, the gadget hanging heavy on his hands._

_Ian: Olivia, this is Ian. We need to talk. Please text me where we can meet later. My last class will be at two til four. I’m free after that. Please, I need to know what happened last night._

  
  


_He kept on looking at the screen, thinking that he should’ve made a more elaborate message, explaining why he had to leave in the middle of the night, even him foregoing wearing his boots before he sent the text. There are thousands of thoughts rushing in his mind and he just can’t deal with not knowing if one of them is right. Ian puts his phone back in his pocket but not before he hears it beep._

_Olivia: I was waitin the whole night for ur text. come to the sorority house by 5, i’ll b there by then_

_Ian: thank you, be there at 5._

  
  
  


_Johnson turns the AC on as he drives Ian to Olivia’s sorority house. It would take them approximately thirty two minutes just to go there, and Johnson has been trying to gage Ian’s mood from the moment he called him up a few hours ago to come and pick him up from his last class. They were both quiet, Ian just looking out the window, his eyes bearing no emotions. Johnson is a patient man, he could stand the silence for a long time, knowing when his opinions are needed, when he can give it. As he turned the car to the right, he chanced a look on Ian’s face. He seemed like a boy so lost in his thoughts, which is probably running a thousand times a minute right now. Johnson wanted to ease a bit of tension off him, but he knows his place, knows Ian will speak and tell him what’s going on when he’s ready. And from the looks of it, he is so far from that._

_“We’re about ten minutes away. You want to text Olivia that we’re close?”_

_“Uhm, yeah. But we might wait for her a bit. We’re kind of early.”_

_“Okay.”_

_Johnson nodded then continued to drive in silence. He turned the radio on, putting it on a jazz station with the lowest possible volume. They reached the building fifteen minutes before five._

_A couple of minutes to five, Ian receives a text that Olivia will be arriving in the sorority house in a bit._

_“Ian, if Olivia tells you something that you think Mickey wouldn’t want to know, it's okay for him to not know about it. It's fine to keep certain secrets to your partner when you know it’ll hurt them.”_

_“I know.” Ian sighs, “I just hope…” he scratches his eyes with the back of his hands, “Thank you, Johnson. I’ll be back in a few minutes, I hope.”_

_“Take your time, Ian. Just remember to not take any more shots tonight.” Johnson said smiling, squeezing his shoulder, “You still have to talk to Mickey later, okay.”_

_“Yeah, shit.” Ian winced, “I really don’t want to fuck this up, Johnson. He doesn’t deserve this.”_

_“Just talk to Olivia, get all the information that you need then leave. You don’t have to stay there if you don’t want to.”_

_“Yeah,” he sighs, “Yeah.” Ian slapped his thighs then said, “Here I go.”_

_“Go in, have the talk, then leave.”_

_He blew a long breath through his lips, “Yeah, okay. Wait for me, yeah. If I don’t get out in thirty minutes, call me. I’ll fake an emergency.” Ian drew another breath in, “ ‘kay, here goes nothing.” He opened the door stepping out of the car with less bounce on his feet. He crossed the street and pulled out his phone._

_“Olivia, I’m already here.”_

_Ten minutes inside Olivia’s room, Ian found himself walking back and forth from one side to the other, one hand on his waist the other gripping the ends of his hair. He wanted to hear from Olivia again what had transpired just a few hours ago. To be exact, nineteen hours ago._

_She was sitting at the edge of the bed, both arms crossed in front of her, one leg over the other. Olivia was looking at him with a smirk on her lips._

_“So you’re telling me you found me lying on the floor with the cat.”_

_“With Gimli, yes.”_

_“And I was obviously passed out.”_

_“Yes you were. Out cold, like tile faced, like literally.”_

_“And the cat was like, what, laying with me on the floor?”_

_“No, he was actually dancing,” She rolled her eyes, “Yes he was with you, sleeping on the floor.”_

_“Wait and you,” Ian waves his hand on his front, “and Tracy… did it never occur to you both that maybe I needed to be brought to the emergency room?”_

_“For what, underage drinking? for being bitten by a cat?”_

_He stopped walking, his whole body facing her. “For a tetanus shot, Olivia.”_

_“Gimli is a house cat, our house cat. She has her own room with a closet full of her clothes and toys, a vet on call 24/7...”_

_“But what about the human that he actually bit on the shoulder, Olivia?”_

_“Listen, we would’ve never known that he bit you if not for the drops of blood on your pants.”_

_“And you both took my pants off thinking what, that he bit me in the nuts?”_

_“No, of course not.” Olivia snapped at him. “Tracy is gay, she doesn’t care about your thingy.”_

_“Thingy. Jesus, Olivia.” he turns around, putting his hand at the back of his head. “You can’t just… I need tetanus shots, Olivia.”_

_“It was just a tiny bite.”_

_“A tiny…” He grits his teeth. Ian remembers seeing a small bite on his shoulder, and a few bruises around it, his muddled mind thinking they were hickeys. Ian took a breath through his rounded lips, then blew air slowly. “Okay tell me this, I want you to be as honest about it as possible. Has Gimli ever bitten anyone else?”_

_“He’s bitten a few people.” Olivia said nonchalantly._

_“Jesus, and you guys think that’s okay? That it’s fine for a full grown cat to be biting people for no reason?”_

_“As I’ve said, if there are any problems, we usually call Dr. Patel.”_

_“Dr. Patel?”_

_“His vet.”_

_“Olivia are you serious?” Ian looks at Olivia baffled. “What about me, did it ever occur to you that maybe I may have rabies?” he had his hands on his hip again, his breathing hard and fast._

_“Cats don’t carry rabies, Ian.”_

_“I don’t care if he’s not rabid or his blood is the cure for Yellow Fever.”_

_“Don’t be so dramatic, Ian.”_

_“Okay, now tell me. Why do I have fucking have bruises around Gimli’s bite? Are you sure he wasn’t nibbling on my skin, contemplating giving me another bite?”_

_“Look, it’s not his fault. Those bruises are my fault.”_

_“What, you tried to suck the rabies out from my skin?” Ian’s eyes widen at her, chin jutting out._

_“Eww, no.” her pretty face scrunching, “I uhm… tried squeezing blood out from the bite. I was panicking, okay.” a blush creeping on her cheeks, “I may have not known at first that cats don't have rabies. I was only trying to help.” Olivia stands up from the bed, striding away from Ian. “Well, for your information, Ian. Tracy called Dr. Patel when I was on my knees trying to help you,” she stressed on every word, “and told her cats don’t carry the virus, so you’re fine.”_

_“But what about tetanus, Olivia?”_

_“Well if you want to get the shot, the urgent care is open until eight.”_

_“Oh my god.”_

_“What, you want me to come with you, pay for the shots? Is that why you’re so angry?”_

_“Olivia, I don’t care how much the fucking shots cost, what I’m saying here is you shouldv’e told me what happened instead of letting me think something happened last night?”_

_“Ahh, so there. That’s the reason why you’re so concerned about knowing the details from last night. Okay, mister Gallagher, to soothe your worries, I assure you, one hundred percent, that we didn’t have sex last night.”_

_“I wasn’t insinuating that. I was just…”_

_“Ian, you don’t have to say it to my face. Cause I can see it, how bothered you are of the idea that we had sex last night.”_

_“I didn’t… I wasn’t...” Ian is now the one blushing. He did thought of it, thought that him and Olivia had sex last night, that he was so drunk to remember what he had did, what they may have done. “But why… when I woke up, you were sleeping beside me. I mean, I had my pants off, of course I would think something like that happened.”_

_Olivia stared at him straight ahead, her face tight, a large vein from the side of her forehead to her temple bulged out, “Okay Casanova, nothing remotely like that happened. Let me remind you, that you actually passed out inside my bathroom which is obviously inside my room. This,” He tilts her head towards the bed, “is my bed. I have every right to sleep on it. I was doing you a favor. We dragged your passed out body to my bed, to let you sleep off your underage intoxicated body somewhere warm and safe. And this is all the thanks I get?” she hissed at him._

_Just as he was about to say something, his phone started ringing. Ian pulled out his phone from his pocket and knew already who it was, “Yeah, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” he sighs, “Yeah, everything is fine. Yes, be there in five.”_

_He puts his phone back inside his pocket, “Right,” Ian holds out the word then sighed audibly, “I’m sorry.” he rubbed his fingers on his forehead, “I was so confused when I woke up. I didn’t know… I mean if you were me, you would think of the same thing, Olivia.”_

_“Like what, that I would have sex with someone who is passed out drunk? I’m not that desperate, Ian.”_

_“No, of course not. I’m sorry, this is the first time that this thing happened to me and I’m…”_

_“Ian, if I were to have sex with somebody, I sure as hell want that both of us are into it, that we both wanted it.”_

_“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Olivia, you have to understand, I’m really at a loss a while ago.”_

_“Alright, now that everything has been cleared out, I would appreciate it if you leave right now.”_

_“Olivia, I’m really sorry.” he said quietly._

_“If you intend to get your shots, the nearest urgent care is about five minutes away from here. Look for Dr. Meadow. She’s nice. We always go to her if there’s some virus going around the sorority house. Tell her I’m your friend.”_

_“Friend?” Ian said, blinking his eyes wide._

_“Yes, we’re still friends, Ian. I get where you’re coming from, don’t worry, I’m not as heartless as you think I am. Now, get out,” Olivia strides to her desk, pulling out her chair and opens up her laptop, “I still have work to do.” she said, waving her hand over her shoulder without looking at him._

_“Olivia?”_

_“What?” still not looking at him, turning her laptop on, the screen lighting up._

_“We’re cool, right?”_

_She turns her head around, putting her elbow on top of the table, resting her face on the palm of her hand. Olivia sighed with a small smile on her face, “Yeah we’re cool, Ian. Now get the fuck out of my room.” she purses her lips then turns her back at him._

_Ian stood for a few seconds smiling at her blonde head, her delicate shoulders and back straight as she types on her laptop. He walked out of her room, shutting the door behind him. Ian felt lighter, his every step had a little bounce on it. He felt like dancing, like he wanted to put on his The Hills soundtrack and let Natasha Bedingfiled’s voice percolate every space, every nook in his apartment later. Ian found himself running through the hallways again, down the stairs, out of the now familiar building towards the waiting car across the street._

_Johnson jolted when Ian opened the door to the passenger seat. He was doing the crossword puzzle of the local newspaper, trying to figure out a six letter word starting with L ending with E. Number forty two, six letter word across, A mineral that is readily open to change, unstable. Liable? No, Labile! Okay he has to remember putting that down later._

_“Jesus.” he exclaimed just as Ian was sitting on the seat beside him. “You said five minutes.”_

_Ian was smiling, his face almost splitting in two. He bits his lip, grinning lopsided, touching the shoulder where his bite mark is tenderly. “I think I need a tetanus shot.”_

_“Why?” Johnson incredulously asked._

_“I was bitten by Gimli.” he said with a soft chuckle._

_“Gimli, like one of the guys at the party last night?”_

_“No. Shit, no. Its their house cat. He bit me when I was passed out drunk in Olivia’s bathroom.”_

_Johnson clears his throat, “I’m sure there is more into this story, Ian.” he starts the car, turning the AC on._

_Ian giggled, his shoulder bouncing with how much he’s trying to control his joy. “Yeah. But I’m sure glad there’s no fucking invloved in this story.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Ian leaned back, extending his arm at the back of Johnson’s seat. “First, let’s go find the nearest urgent care. I need to get a shot from Dr. Meadows.”_

  
  
  


“What?” Mickey dragged the word, a small gasp escaped his lips, “What did you just say?”

“Uhm, It’s not what you think, Mick.” 

“Not what I think? Ian, you slept with her!” Mickey was standing up now, his hands trembling. He sees Brian at his periphery, also standing up from the couch. He was about to go to Mickey when he held out his hand, stopping his movement. “Is this why you didn’t call me last night, cause you were with her, with Olivia?”

“Mickey, you have to calm down first. There’s a reason why I didn’t get to call you last night, actually several reasons.”

“Ian, I’m giving you two minutes and if you don’t get your stories straight, I’m hanging up the phone and don’t ever call me again.”

“Okay. Okay, Mick. Baby…”

“Don’t fucking call me baby.”

“Mick, I’m inside an urgent care right now, getting shots.”

Mickey was thinking shots. _Why does Ian need shots? Is it for Hepatitis, for HIV, what fucking shots are Ian getting?_

“What shots are you talking about, Ian?”

“I was at a house party last night. I promise you, nothing happened. Well, something else happened, but not what you’re thinking.” He hears shuffling on the other end of the line, like Ian was moving the phone on his other ear. “Mickey, I swear to god, nothing like that happened. Are you listening to me?”

Mickey pinches the skin in between his brows. He sighs, “I’m listening.” 

“So, okay. Olivia invited me to her sorority house’s party. There were a lot of free drinks,” Mickey hears a female voice asking Ian to lift his sleeve up. “And I’m not the one who turns down free drinks, especially if it’s fruity and sweet.” he hears the female voice again asking Ian if he’s ready. “Yeah, yeah. Just do it.” Ian replied back. “And I sort of had a few, Mick. Oww. Yeah, sorry. It didn’t really hurt. Yes, you have genuinely light hands, miss. Yes, I will. Thank you.” 

“Ian, are you alright? What kind of shot are you getting?” Mickey is almost shouting now. His grip on his phone is so tight, the veins on his hands and arms started popping out.

“Tetanus shot. I got bitten by Olivia’s sorority house cat on the shoulder while I was passed out drunk in her bathroom.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, they have a house cat, his name is Gimli. And apparently they left him inside Olivia’s bathroom so he won’t run around or worse get out of the house and get lost. I stumbled to her bathroom, not knowing he was there. I don’t really know what happened after I passed out, but he bit me. Right on my right shoulder, Mick. And I think Olivia was looking for me and found me laying pissed out cold in her bathroom with drops of blood on my pants. She and her friend Tracy drag me to her bed and let me sleep there. I woke up with Olivia sleeping beside me. That’s it, Mick. We just slept together, like literally just sleeping beside each other, baby. I swear to god, nothing happened.”

“And you expect me to believe this, Ian?”

“Mick, I will never lie to you. Please, that’s the entirety of the story. I swear, baby. Nothing happened.”

Mickey pressed his lips together, his gaze going automatically to his best friend's puzzled face. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Give me a few minutes, Ian. I need to process this properly. There‘s just too much to unpack here.”

“I know, I know Mick. I’ll give you time. I’ll give you time to think about this. But please trust me, trust that I will never allow anything like that to happen.”

“Okay, Ian. Uhm…” Mickey turned silent for a moment. A few beats passed when all that can be heard on each end of the line were their breathing, one deep and strained, the other slow and soft. The silence lingered for a moment until Mickey decided to end it, “Okay, alright. I’ll call you later, Ian. I just need to think this through.”

“But do you trust me, Mickey?”

_Yes._ “Yes.” 

“I love you, Mickey.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I do. I…” Mickey for the first time hesitated saying it back, “love you too, Ian.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait for your call, Mick.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll call you later. I promise.”

“Alright. Take care, Mick.”

“You too.”

  
  
  


**CLICK**

  
  
  


Mickey clenched his eyes shut, his face dropping on the palms of his hands. He felt his knees wobbling. Mickey falls sideways to his chair, almost missing it by a couple of inches. He felt Brian rushing to him, his hands automatically going to his waist.

“Here, I got you.” Brian holds Mickey by the waist, pulling him up, his arms sliding to his shoulders. “You wanna lie down.” Mickey hides his face, his hands on his face, his head hitting Brian’s chest. “Here, let’s get you to bed.”

He let Brian lay him sideways, Mickey’s legs dangling by the edge of the bed. Brian sits beside him, his right hand on his left hip. He brings his hands off his face, his eyes still shut close. Mickey breathed out “Ian said he didn’t sleep with Olivia. Technically, they did sleep together, but not have sex sleep together.”

Brian’s right hand brushes his arm, “You believe him?” 

_Yes._ “Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem? You said you believed him, right? Did you have any doubt with his story?”

He pinched his lower lip in between his teeth, turning his face towards his friend. “It’s not that I doubt him, it’s more of how long it took him to call me about it. Like he bought some time, Bri. Like he wasn’t sure of what happened.”

“Mick, you’re overthinking this. As I’ve said, the first day in school is hard, especially in college. You’re gonna be the same in a few days. You’d know how it is by then.”

He sighed, “Yeah, I sure hope it’s just that, Bri. Like he was just overwhelmed and anxious that he forgot to call me.”

“He didn’t forget, stupid.” Brian slaps his shoulder lightly, “He called you once, texted you several times. Ian just didn’t call you last night to wish your pretty ass goodnight.” he chuckled softly. Brian pats Mickey’s head, “Go to sleep. You haven’t even slept the whole day, Mick.”

Mickey leaned into his friend’s touch, his tiredness suddenly creeping up on him. “Are you staying?” a slight hope in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stay. I’ll leave once you get up later.”

“Thank you, Bri.”

“No problem, you little shit. You owe me.”

“We already had pizza, asshole.”

“I paid for that, you idiot. And pizza? That’s how you’ll repay me?” Brian laid his back on the bed, scooting further until his head hit the pillows. “I’ll collect when you least expect it, Milkovich. Come up here, you baby. Get some proper sleep.”

Mickey lifted himself by his elbow and glanced back at his friend with a smile on his face. “This is why I love you, Brian. You are always keeping tabs at me.”

Brian laughed lightly, shaking his head, “Just fucking get some sleep and stop being sappy, Mickey. Come on, sleep or else I'm leaving.” 

“Okay, fine dad. Geez, can’t a guy be sweet to his friend for a mo?” Mickey crawls towards the head of the bed, fluffing the pillow before resting his head on it. 

“Sweet my ass. C’mon sleep. I need to sext with Marge while your sorry ass is sleeping.”

“Eww.”

“Don’t _eww_ me, Milkovich. I have a feeling you and Ian will be doing that soon.”

“Never.” Mickey closes his eyes, nuzzling his cheek further on the soft pillow.

“Ha! Don’t ever say never, Mick. I’m giving you guys two weeks and you’ll be sexting and sending nudes on a daily.” Brian tilted his head and saw Mickey’s mouth already ajar, soft snores coming out from it. He grinned and took his phone out of his pocket. He started composing a message and sent it to a number that he had just recently saved in his phonebook.

  
  


Brian: Hey, asshole. You do this stunt one more time, I will go to New Haven and find you and kick your ass. Don’t fucking make me drive two hours to disarrange your face, Gallagher. You got me?

  
  


Ian is already walking up to his unit when he hears his phone beeping. He smiled at the message in spite of the threatening nature of the text. Ian hummed slowly, his smile growing wider.

  
  


Ian: tnx brian 4 takin care of my mickey. i dnt want u 2 disarrange my face, not a bit. der wnt b anymor stunt brian. i promis

  
  


He gets a reply almost instantly.

  
  


Brian: Good. And learn how to spell ginger. You're already in college. Jesus. 

Ian: Noted.

  
  


Brian smirked at the last text and closed the thread, opening another one. He hits the second message thread after the most recent one.

  
  


Brian: what are you wearing baby?

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  
  


September 25, 2006

8:12 AM

  
  
  


Mickey is fucking nervous. He’s been in the same spot for several minutes now. His lips tightened the more he scanned his eyes around him. He craned his neck up to the high rise building with glass windows. Fuck, this is one tall building, he muses to himself. 

At the wall facing the street is the college emblem, **New York City College of Technology** painted proudly across it. He was standing on the street, right at the opposite side of the building, his hands slowly reaching up to the straps of his backpack, clenching on them tightly. Mickey’s head dropped forward, his legs bouncing by the balls of his feet. 

He had woken up at three in the morning, like his body had memorized a routine, an automatic body clock that he’s been doing for a couple of years. And he can’t blame this force of habit he has, he’s so used to doing them that it never even occurred to him how early it was. Mickey did something that he usually does to calm himself, he rode his bike to the pier before sunrise, giving him ample time to think and slow down his racing thoughts. He realized that today, his usual routine is bound to change. And the mere thought of what today is, is giving him anxiety. God, he can’t believe, can't even imagine thinking that it can be possible that he'll be back in school, more so getting into college. Mickey hasn’t been physically in any school for almost five years and today’s the day, as what Joe told him last night, that change will start happening in his life, and he’s got to be ready. Because he’s got to remember when exactly the wheels are turning for him, and Mickey is literally shaking with excitement as he sees firsthand the wheels actually turning. 

His face twists in nervous anticipation, the butterflies in his stomach flying erratically, making him slightly nauseous. Mickey’s head starts buzzing with the possibilities as he finally takes the first steps towards the building that could change the destiny of the nine year old orphan from California. A sudden chill runs down his spine as he gets closer to the entrance. 

Mickey is actually freaking out internally, but he had to fight the urge to run, to actually stop running. His hands begin to shake as he sees the steps going up the main doors of the building. This is it, Mickey thought, as he stood directly at the door to the entrance, his hand shaking in a way he can’t control. He shakes his hand, then leaned in, reaching for the door handle again. His heart began rabbiting against his chest. Mickey sucks in a huge breath through his nose and blows it slowly through his pursed lips. He’s so fucking ready to rewrite his stars. He clasps the door handle with his slightly less trembling hand, and takes the first step into the building, his eyes moving quickly at everything in front of him. He smiles. _Fuck, he’s so ready._

  
  


“Hi, hun. What can I do for you?”

“Uhm, good morning. My name is Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. That’s M-I-K-H-A-I-L-O A-L-E-K-S-A-N-D-R M-I-L-K-O-V-I-C-H.”

The lady behind the glass window started typing his name while he was spelling it for her. She smiled and looked up towards him, “Thank you, mister Milkovich.” she says, stressing his last name. “What can I do for you?”

“Uhm, I would like to ask for my first semester curriculum for Architectural Technology please.”

“School year?”

“I’m an incoming freshman for uhm, Fall 2006.”

“New or Old student?”

“New.”

“Okay, yes. Here we go.” squinting her eyes on the screen, “Mister Milkovich, welcome to NYCCT. I see you are enrolled for a four year program in AT. Have you talked with your program coordinator yet, mister Milkovich?”

“It’s Mickey.”

“Alright, Mickey. Have you talked with your program coordinator?”

“Uhm, no. I thought I should register first...”

“No, hun. You have to go to your program coordinator, which is,” she typed fast on keyboard, her fingers seemed to be dancing in the air. “Mr. Jason Montgomery. He is available right now in room 201.”

“Okay.” Mickey starts jotting the name in his small notebook.

“And here,” she grabs a catalogue, a pamphlet, pulls a few newly printed out papers from the printer, an ID string and a bumper sticker from a drawer, putting it all in a white envelope with the college emblem. “is the list of your course requirements, Mickey. And,” she hands him the envelope, “to go to room 201, go straight ahead. On your right you’ll see the stairs and the elevator, you can do either. It’s on the second floor, second door to your left. Good luck, Mickey. Come back to me once you’ve spoken with Mr. Montgomery. Welcome to NYCCT.” 

Mickey extended his hand and took the envelope, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you, ma’m.”

“It’s Beth, hun. Don’t forget to come back to me later after your talk with Mr. Montgomery, okay?” she winked at him and gave him a soft smile.

“Yes, miss Beth. Thank you.”

Mickey nodded then turned away from the counter, putting the envelope inside his backpack. He looked back at the next student behind him, as he stepped out of the line, giving her a shy smirk. He started walking down the hallway towards the stairs, his steps unhurried, but purposeful. Mickey decided that he needed the walk, maybe needing more time to compose himself. 

When he finally reached the second floor, he immediately turned left trying to find room 201. As he gets closer, Mikey sees that the door to the coordinator’s office is actually open. He peeks and sees a young man sitting behind a black office desk computer with 4-tier storage shelves. The man was wearing a light pink long sleeved button up that he had rolled up to his elbows with slim fitting dark blue slacks and a white high top converse. Mickey knocks on the door frame lightly making the bespectacled guy look up. 

“Mister Montgomery?”

“Yes, come in. What can I do for you?”

“Uhm,” Mickey waited a beat, chuckling lightly, “Miss Beth from the registrar’s office told me to see you before I get officially registered to my program. I’m new, I mean,” Mickey scratches the back of his neck as he stood outside the room, “I’m a freshman and I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to do on my first day.” 

“I gotcha. Come in, take a seat.” 

Inside the room are four other office desks, each are separated by five-foot dividers to offer some sort of privacy for each student. Mister Montgomery’s desk is the table that is positioned directly in front of the door, making him the first person you’ll get to see once you come inside the room. In front of his desk is a metal name plate bearing his name and two plastic black shell stack chairs. A flat screen monitor sits in the middle of the table, a thin keyboard right in front of it. Beside it are a stack of papers and a mug with the college emblem filled with different kinds of pens. Mickey decides to take the chair on the right and drops his backpack on the floor.

“Uhm, miss Beth gave me this envelope with all the course requirements. I was supposed to start my classes today.” he places the envelope on top of the table.

“Okay,” The man grabbed the envelope and leafed through the contents. “So, let’s start with your name and the program you’re accepted in.” the man asks him.

“My name is Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.”

“Russian?”

“Ah, no. I’m Ukranian.”

“Cool. how do you spell your last name?” he looks at him through the frame of his brown rimmed glasses, hands ready to type on the keyboard.

“It’s M-I-L-K-O-V-I-C-H, sir.”

A soft tapping sound from the keyboard can be heard as the man continued, “You can call me Jason, Mikhailo.”

He clears his throat, “It’s Mickey.”

“Cool, Mickey. Program?”

“Architectural Technology.”

“Oh nice. My bro teaches in that program. You’ll get to meet him in your Building Tech class.” Jason’s left leg kept bouncing on the floor, his shoe making a tapping sound, “Don’t get intimidated with the beard, Mickey. That’s his crown and glory. Competes and shit with that thing on his face.” Jason grins at him and prints out some documents for him. “So today you will have an orientation at ten.” He puts all the papers inside the envelope except for a few. “Here is the course curriculum for first year students.” placing a document in front of Mickey, his pen pointing at all of his subjects, “There are a total of fourteen credits that you need to accomplish by the end of the semester.” He showed him another paper, with the list of all the elective courses, “You must take one Liberal Arts course and a Foreign Language course in your four year stay with us. If you want to graduate early, we have an option for all students to do double duty courses. Meaning, increasing your load for each semester, thereby shortening your breaks.” Jason leaned on the desk, putting both his elbows on top, “Your winter, spring and summer breaks will be cut short, and most don’t want that.” he shrugs. “Well, it depends on how much you want to accomplish in your program in the shortest amount of time. So think before you agree on doing this.” Jason crosses both arms to his chest, leaning back on his chair, “But the good side is, instead of doing your course for four years, it’s going to be just two and a half years. Gives you more time to do an internship in the city or out of state, even overseas, which is rad by the way.” tilting his head on the side.

“Okay.”

“Here’s your classes for the whole school year, Mickey.” Jason slides a document in front of Mickey.

  
  
  


**SEMESTER 1**

**Subject Code** **Subject** **Credits**

ARCH 1112 Architectural Design 1: Foundations and Visual Studies 5

ARCH 1101 Introduction to Architecture 2

ENG 1101 English Composition 3

MAT 1275 College Algebra and Trigonometry 4  
  


**SEMESTER 2**

**Subject Code** **Subject** **Credits**

ARCH 1212 Architectural Design 2: Foundations and Visual Studies 5

ARCH 1231 Building Technology 1 3

ARCH 1250 Site Planning 2

ARCH 1121 History of World Architecture to 1900 2

PHYS 1433 General Physics 1: Algebra Based 4

  
  


Mickey sighed, smoothing a hand through his hair. “T-thanks.”

“Okay,” Jason leans off from his chair, resting his elbows on top of the table. “I know this may be a bit overwhelming, but we are here to help you, guide you if you think things are getting difficult.” he gets a card from his desk and gives it to Mickey. “Here’s my card. I’m one of the program coordinators and counselors for your course. If you need help or any advice, feel free to call, email or if you want a one on one meeting, come to my office. There are three of us here, but it’s mostly me all throughout the week, because Shelley, the other regular coordinator is on maternity leave for a couple of months, and our per diem Robert only comes in once or twice a week, depending on his other work schedule. So, if you’re not opposed to seeing my face and talking to me, I’m your guy.” he smirked at him.

“Thank you, Jason.”

“So, I need you to sign here, and here,” he says as he pulled out another document, “this is about what we have talked about, that I clearly explained to you your course, and you actually understood the shit I’ve said.” Jason chuckles, handing Mickey a pen. Mickey signed on the spaces where he saw the check marks were placed. “Okay, perfect. So, Mickey Milkovich.” He stands up from his chair, extending his hand to Mickey, which he accepts while slowly standing up himself, “Welcome to New York City College of Technology. Good luck.” he smiled at him while shaking his hand earnestly.

Mickey shook his hand with his cold, clammy ones. “I’m sorry. Damn, I’m so sorry,” rubbing his hand furiously on the sides of his pants, “I’m just so nervous.” he shyly said to Jason, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“Dude, I totally get it. You’re fine, Mickey,” he pats his right hand on his shoulder. “I get how it is. I was the same when I got into UCLA a few years back.” then dropped his hand putting it inside his pocket. 

Mickey lets his arms hang on his side, “You’re from California?” he asks.

“I used to be. I moved here a couple of years ago when I got offered this job.”

“Wow, I used to live in California too, moved here more than two years ago.” Mickey’s eyes widened as he surprised himself with giving off that information so nonchalantly to a literal stranger.

“Look at the odds of that, Mickey. Both west coast dudes moving to the east coast. Tired of the beach and sun, I presume?”

“Something like that.” he looks down at his shoes and decides in a split second to grab his bag off the floor. “Uhm, yeah. Nice to meet you, Jason.”

“Yeah man, sure. Don’t forget to go back to Beth and submit all the signed forms to her.” Jason sits back down on his chair without breaking eye contact with Mickey, “Come back if you need any help with anything, Mickey. Don’t be a stranger.” 

“Thanks, Jason.”

“You’re very welcome, Mickey. See you around, freshman.” Jason drawled, smiling widely at Mickey.

A crooked smile curled Mickey’s lips, “Yeah, see you around.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bite mark right??? nasty Gimli. teehee. 
> 
> I'm so happy to get to write them being in university/college. canon gallavich never had that opportunity and I want them to have this, and be the smart men that they truly are.
> 
> I know somebody commented about this a few chapters back, but these next few chapters will feature jumps, coz I really don't want to delve fully into their college life. the years after that, are the ones that is important, well, important to them as men and as lovers. 
> 
> ***thanks to all of you who are still here reading. I truly, genuinely enjoy reading all your comments.  
> ***also, this is like a milestone for me, reaching more than 100k words, woohoo!!! *pats self on the back  
> ***pam, thanks for the help! hope you're feeling better now.  
> ***I'm @piyatot09 on twitter and @missrefridgefreetorator on Tumblr.


	20. Wherever You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Haven to Manhattan. 81.2 miles. two hours and 23 minutes. Seemed so far away, until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You looked like the sun  
> I was the only one  
> Who could stare until you were done shining on me.
> 
> -They Bring Me To You by Joshua Radin

September 28, 2006

3:51 PM

  
  
  


“I know that today is our first meeting, and I also know that the weekend will be coming up. For sure most of you are going out getting drunk or high in the next couple of days,” Professor O’Brien said before clicking the next button for his next slide, ending his lecture with the chapters that the class needed to read for the weekend. “But I would like to keep up with my reputation of being the most inconsiderate asshole in the history of City Tech.” 

He walked around the table and leaned his hip on the side, planting his left hand palm down on top of the table, steadying himself. “Tomorrow afternoon, there will be a few equations that I need you to work on. There will be a total of five equations, and you only need to answer three of them. I will be posting them on the course blackboard.” Professor O’Brien turned and walked back to the whiteboard, pulling out a green non permanent marker then wrote the course code, an email address and his full name boldly on the board. 

“Please set up your accounts as soon as possible if you haven’t done so yet. You can choose which ones you would like to work on to.” He put the cap on the marker and placed it on top of the table. “Please show the steps of how you solved the equations, and not make a shortcut version of how you solve it, where you magically arrive with the right answer by doing only two steps. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to cheat and copy from each other, because I would know.” 

Professor O’Brien walked to the side of the platform and tapped the shoulder of his assistant Andy, who was sitting at the front of the class. Andy gives him his messenger bag and a stack of papers. He continued, “As far as I’m concerned, all of them are fairly easy. If you’re having trouble with the equations, please email Andy, and he will be answering all your queries. Also, if you’re having trouble accessing your blackboard, on your course syllabus is the college IT website and they will help you set up your account. If there are no other questions, you may go. See you next week.” 

The whole class let out a large breath once the Professor and his assistant got out of the room. All of them started looking at each other, like there was this silent understanding that fuck, he really just did that, dropping an assignment on the first week class. Mickey secretly loves it, actually looking forward to doing the equations once he gets home. 

Professor Conrad O’Brien is Mickey’s college Algebra and Trigonometry teacher. He is a six foot five inches tall man, with wild auburn hair, and who seemed to have a predilection of torturing his students with elaborate mathematical equations, or from what his classmates had told him. 

Mickey was actually not opposed to doing some assignments this weekend, he really wanted to immerse himself with the full experience of being a college boy. And honestly, what will three equations do to him, when he’s already done with his other two readings for the week? To be honest, Mickey has been so pumped since the start of the semester, even asking Brian to help him set up his second hand laptop for his classes on blackboard and have a separate email for school. Mickey actually is contemplating on getting a new phone and laptop that has better internet browsing capabilities, faster processor and whatever the fuck Brian was complaining about with his Dell Inspiron 6400. Because it appears his friend was having a hard time making the applications work and it's annoying the shit out of Mickey whenever he hears his friend whine and show his discontent on his laptop.

  
  
  


_“Can you even watch porn here? I don’t think you can even download anything here without crashing it.” Brian grumbles._

_“Shut up, I can google stuff here. And for your information, I use Torrent to download porn, asshole.” Mickey elbows him on the leg._

_He was sitting on the floor while Brian sat on his couch, hunched over with his laptop resting on his thighs, typing furiously on his keyboard._

_“Torrent, Jesus Christ.” Brian said under his breath, his fingers hitting on the keyboard harshly, “Are you sure you can download more than five minutes of video here? I don’t believe you can even use this thing other than sending emails, Mick.”_

_“What do you suggest me to do Bri, buy a new laptop?”_

_Brian ignores his questions, “Tsk, I don’t think I can even open another browser while I’m setting up your blackboard.”_

_“Bri, are you saying I should buy a new laptop?” Mickey nudges him, his voice getting louder._

_“Okay, I know you’re tight with money right now, Mick. But,” Brian wags his eyebrows, “I have somebody in mind who can probably help you with this.”_

_“Argh, I only have a few hundred dollars in the bank, Bri.” Mickey chews his lower lip, “Shit,” he looks around the room, “maybe I could sell some of my extra bike gear to get a few bucks, maybe that could help buy a new laptop, just as long as it's really cheap.”_

_“Yeah, about that…” Brian scratches his chin, “I mean I know somebody that can help you upgrade your laptop or rather, this person I know may know somebody that can give you a good deal with a new laptop.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Uhm, remember Troy?”_

_“Troy, my date? The guy you were trying to hook me up with?”_

_“Correction, you two almost hooked up after the date but you weren’t in the mood.” Brian closes his laptop, Mickey hearing the tone of the tell tale signs of his Microsoft office shutting down. “Troy was cool about it though, even if you didn’t text him after your date like you promised, jerk.” he says as he plopped down on the floor, sitting next to Mickey._

_“I was…”_

_Mickey remembered that night. It was the night he met Ian. He thought that it was a whole lifetime ago, but was actually just a few weeks, barely even two months. A lot of things have happened since then. And Mickey must admit, meeting Ian was chance meeting, a happenstance that changed his life a lot._

_“Uhm, that was the night I met Ian.”_

_“Met. Is that what you call heroism now, Mick?” Brian elbowed him on the rib snickering. “You practically saved that boy’s life that night!”_

_“I was just doing my civic duty as a citizen, Briaann.” Mickey said, pursing his lips. He wrinkled his nose, “and besides, I don’t think me and Troy clicked that night.”_

_“Psshh, clicked. Troy never stood a chance with Ian, Mick. And you know it.”_

_“Look, I told you I was tired that night, wasn’t even in the mood to go out, remember?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your lame excuses are getting old, Milkovich.” Brian taps Mickey’s thigh, grabbing his laptop from the couch “Speaking of old, this thing Mickey…” he starts brandishing his two year old Dell in front of him, “will not help you in your classes. C’mon, I think it’s high time to upgrade, dude.”_

_“How dare you call Michelle old!” Mickey grabs his laptop from Brian’s hands and cradles it on top of his chest._

_“Okay Mick, word of advice.” Brian pulls himself off the floor and sits on the couch again, “If you start actually naming your gadgets and feel bad if they’re malfunctioning, even not seeing that as an inconvenience, that means you’ve had it for a long time and had developed a relationship with it.” he laughed as Mickey swatted his legs._

_“That’s not how a relationship works, asshole!” He pushes him away from him, “Okay, fine. I’ll get a new laptop.” Mickey rests his head on top of his bent knees. “But only buy one if I can actually afford it. I just have a few hundred dollars left in my savings, Bri. I can’t really buy something high end.” he pouted, turning his gaze at his friend._

_“I told you, Troy can help you with this. Not unless…”_

_“Not unless what?”_

_“You find it awkward to talk with somebody you ghosted for Ian.”_

_“Actually... fuck.” Mickey buried his face in between his bent legs, “Shit, you think it’s okay?” he peaked to the side, looking at Brian with one eye closed, “I mean, he’s cool right? Like, he knows I’m seeing someone now, right?”_

_“What is this? You think Troy is so hung up on your pretty little ass that he hasn’t moved on?”_

_“Fuck you, I just want to be sure he’s cool with me… and Ian.”_

_“I told you, he’s cool with it. Troy is an adult.” Brian stands up from the sofa then walks towards the kitchen, getting two beers from the fridge. “Fuck, both of you are adults, Mick.”_

_“Alright, cool.” Mickey pulls himself off the floor and grabs the beer from his friend’s outstretched hands. He sits in the middle of the couch and tucks his left foot under his right thigh._

_“Cool.”_

  
  
  


And so here he is. 

Mickey found himself sitting alone at a circular table at Prodigy Coffee house, nursing an overpriced iced coffee with Almond milk and a slice of carrot cake waiting for Troy to arrive. He’s got his laptop with him, his _Michelle_ , resting on top of the table. His hands lovingly touch her almost-worn-out silver surface, or maybe these are signs of patina, he doesn’t know, but her imperfections add a bit of character on his laptop, and he sort of like it. 

He had purchased Michelle with his first paycheck working legally at the sanitation department. Brian said he needs to replace her with something newer, shinier. And Mickey is being stubborn, doesn’t want to give this ever dependable gadget that he’s had for more than two years up. Mickey is gonna miss her and that humming sound she makes when he has her on for more than an hour. That sound, that odd sound from Michelle is just so familiar to Mickey, that it makes him feel like he has somebody with him whenever he’s alone. And he’s not gonna hear that again once he decides on selling her or maybe donating her somewhere, and it’s making him sad all of a sudden. 

The door to the cafe suddenly opens and a cool breeze comes in, the hair on his neck standing up, making goosebumps. Mickey turned his head and saw Troy coming in, his blonde hair flopping from left to right. He notices a few of his bangs getting stuck on the wayfarers on his face. Mickey saw Troy ran his fingers through his hair trying to fix it, but is failing miserably. He smiled, it looks like he’s not the only one nervous at the moment.

“Oh hey, Mickey.” Troy waved at him, smiling shyly. 

Mickey waved him over, pointing to the free chair in front of him. He stood up and extended his hand, which Troy ignored and went to give him a hug instead. “Oh, okay.” Mickey patting him on the back.

“Been a long time, Mickey.” Troy claps him back on the back, taking the shades off his face, placing it on top of the table. He then sits across Mickey, letting his elbow rest on top of the circular table. “I’m surprised I finally got a text from you.”

Mickey scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, about that…”

“No man, it’s okay. I get it.” Troy waves at the server and gives her his order, momentarily stopping their conversation. He smiles at her once she repeats his order back to him then turns his gaze back to Mickey. “Heard you’ve got a boyfriend now. Lucky guy.”

“Uhm, thank you Troy. I’m really sorry if I didn’t text you after our date. Didn’t want you to think I had a bad time.”

“No, it’s okay Mickey.” he taps the table with his knuckles, “Let's put it this way, I’m not gonna lie that I didn’t hope there was some sort of connection between us that night, but I’m truly happy for you, Mick. I’m happy you found somebody for you.”

“That’s.. so nice of you, Troy. I'm so glad you're so cool with this.”

“I’m just being real, Mick. Even if we didn’t hit it off that night, I’m okay being friends with you. Are you okay with us being friends, Mickey?” Troy gestures between them, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Of course. Of course, Troy.” Mickey chuckles a bit awkwardly.

Troy smiled widely, leaning his body towards the table, holding his right arm out. “Okay, friends.”

“Friends.” Mickey repeated, shaking the other guy’s hand. 

Both their eyes darted to the server carrying Troy’s order. She carefully placed the black iced tea and a slice of pineapple pudding in front of Troy.

“Thank you.” Troy says to the woman before she turned her back at them. “Okay, so you texted me about your laptop?”

“Yeah, Brian told me you know a lot about computers.” Mickey handed him his laptop, Troy moving his iced tea and pudding on the side, placing the gadget in front of him.

“Brian is being an asshole. But yeah, I know a bit around it. Maybe even good, I dunno.” Troy bits his lower lip, trying to school his face to a more neutral affect as he took the laptop from him. Mickey notices a blush creeping on his cheeks as he stares back at him with a grin. He furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat “Uhm, did it freeze? Are you having trouble turning it on?” 

He flips the laptop open and asks Mickey to put in his password once the screen lit up. Troy’s eyebrows burrow deeply as Mickey tells him all the problems in his portable computer. 

“Alright, so here’s the thing Mick.” Troy closes the laptop, handing it back to him. “You can either buy a new hard drive or an external hard drive to increase the memory of your laptop. After that I can install a newer Windows version that is compatible with the programs you were trying to download. But then the processor of your laptop may not handle the amount of applications and programs your course requires.” he taps his fingers on top of the table. “The thing is Mick, the total cost of you upgrading your internal storage and getting an external hard drive is almost the same as you getting a new laptop.” He sits back in his chair and chews the inside of his cheek. Troy sighed, “I’m sorry Mick, but my best advice for you is to just buy a new laptop with a much larger storage and faster processor.” 

Mickey took a small breath in, letting the air out quickly through his pursed lips. “Shit.” He ruffled his hair, “have you got any idea how much a good one would cost?”

“Uhm, okay.” Troy said with a smile, “I have a few places in mind where we can check out and get you a good deal with what you need. We can have a look at them today if you want to?” he said shrugging, leaning his elbow on the table, “I can even help you haggle, or maybe get them to accept a trade in for your laptop.” Troy ends with a grin.

“That’s great, sure. I would like that, Troy. Thank you. I just hope it won’t cost me much cause I’m really tight with money right now.”

“I thought you’re a full scholar in City Tech?”

“Well, yeah. Full scholarship for four years, with a bi-monthly allowance.”

“Hey, you can probably ask your sponsor for additional expenses. Did you check if it's a full ride?”

“Yeah, I think so. It even said I could get an apartment near City Tech if I want to. But,” Mickey propped his chin on his palm and continued, “I don’t want to leave Manhattan, you know. I’ve just moved into my new place a few weeks ago, and I’m liking where I am right now. Besides, my grant is not local. If I call them to ask for the total coverage of my grant, I need to call them late in the night. My sponsor is a company in the U.K.”

“Huh, that’s odd. How did they get to know your financial aid request?”

“I actually have no idea to be honest.” Mickey burrowed his eyebrows, his eyes flickering to random spots on the table. “I got the grant a few days after I applied in City Tech.”

“Wow, maybe you did get the full ride then, Mick.” Troy took a sip of his iced tea, his cheeks hollowing as his lips rounded the tip of the straw, “there’s really no harm to ask your sponsor, maybe go over the coverage of your grant. If they say they will pay for your school expenses aside from your tuition fee, it means they have a budget for a new laptop for you.” 

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded with a smile, his hands fidgeting on his iced coffee. “I suppose. I could probably pay for the laptop now and have it reimbursed after. You think we can find something within what my bank account can afford now, Troy?” 

“Sure, I mean,” Troy raises an eyebrow, “We have the rest of the day to find the perfect laptop for you for the right price.” he snickered. “So, you up to find your new laptop?”

“Okay,” Mickey clasped his hands in front of him on the table, “Okay, let’s go find me a new, shinier, faster Michelle.”

“Michelle?”

“Well...” Mickey chuckled, placing his hand on top of his soon to be ex, but never to be forgotten laptop, “this is Michelle.” he smiled. His lips stretched wider as he realized how ridiculous what he sounded to other people. “I actually named my laptop Michelle, Troy.” He scrunches his nose, “It’s stupid huh?”

Troy tilted his head, one side of his lips rising higher than the other. He squinted his eyes at Mickey, then chuckled, “As much as I want to say, it’s stupid Mick, I honestly find you adorable as fuck. God, your boyfriend is so fucking lucky.” 

Mickey gasped, “Shut up.” He knew his face might be bright pink right now with the way his face heated up. He waved his hand in front of him and said without looking at Troy, “Finish your god damn pudding so we can get out of here. You’re wasting my time”

“Sure, Mickey.” Troy forking the last piece of pudding into his mouth. “Whatever you say.”

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  


September 29, 2006

9:17 AM

  
  
  


There were probably hundreds of people in the quadrangle. Everybody seemed to be walking from one booth to the other, trying to get as much information as they could before they signed up for whatever the people manning the booths were offering. 

Today is the end of Freshmen Week, and for the last day all the students were clamoring to join at least a couple of campus organizations and clubs, maybe even try out for an athletic team or a theater club. It would seem, if one makes a good choice, the added detail in their curriculum vitae which they will be submitting to the HR department in their future jobs would greatly affect their chances of being employed. 

Ian was standing approximately twenty meters away from a group of students, listening to a young lady who was standing on top of the table, her loud voice reverberating in the crowded space. At the front of the booth is an 8 x 5 inches signage that said _Yale Model Congress,_ which is the campus’ version of America’s House of Representatives. 

He hears her talking about proposed platforms and policies upon which another student, a male Asian student walked purposely in front of her, dragging a plastic chair with him. The guy positioned it in front of the girl while she was still speaking and slowly went up and stood on top of the seat. He began speaking, opposing whatever she was saying, simulating some form of impromptu debate right in front of them. The group of students who were initially just listening earlier started moving closer, cheering at the student they felt made a better point than the other. Ian didn’t move, staying in place as he continued listening, the debate becoming more heated, more intense. 

The cheering of the crowd was slowly turning into jeering, the faces of the two opposing debaters turning red with exertion as they tried to outdo each other’s points. Ian checked his watch and saw that he had been watching the discussion for more than half an hour now, and yet his interest in watching the exchange of words hasn’t wavered. He crossed his arms in front of him, intent on staying until the debate ended. But then he was momentarily distracted when he heard clapping and rap music from the other side of the quadrangle, his gaze flickering to that area. 

At the far right side of the quad, where the loud boom of Beyonce’s _Who Run the World_ was coming from are the booths for fraternities and sororities of the university. Ian sees Olivia’s sorority banner in one of the booths and decides he doesn’t want to accidentally bump into her at the moment, if in case she was also in the event. 

He turned his attention back to the students debating and saw that both have now stepped down from their make-shift stages and are actually shaking hands, smiling at each other. An older man, possibly the club’s advisor came in between them and held one of each of the opponent's hands. The three of them stood in front of the crowd grinning widely. The man said, “Good morning, Freshmen. What you have just witnessed is a practical exercise between Sharon and Eric, sophomores in Poli Sci and are contributing writers for the _Yale Daily News_.” The students around them started clapping. “My name is Professor Adam Meyer, the club's advisor and one of the professors in Sociology and Political Philosophy. I am here to announce the winner of the…” he turned his head from one side to another, looking at both the student’s faces “is this a debate or you guys just wanted some attention?” He smiled sheepishly between the two students. Sharon and Eric laughed, shaking their head furiously.

A slow chanting started to erupt, low at first until the cheering became louder and rowdier. Some of the students were shouting Sharon’s name, the others Eric. “Alright, alright. Calm down.” Professor Meyer exasperatedly said. “The winner is….” his head turned from Sharon and Eric, then his eyes darted to the crowd before him. He smiled then raised the hand of the winner. “Sharon.” A sudden loud roar from the students in and around the booth echoed throughout the quadrangle, muffling Beyonce's sultry voice who is now singing _Best Thing I Never Had._

Ian clapped his hands as he walked away from the very jubilant crowd and found himself on the far left side of the quadrangle where the athletic booth clubs are. He craned his neck on one of the tents and saw **_Yale Cycling Club._ ** His feet started walking before he had actually thought of what he’s doing. 

“Hi, uhm...” Ian hikes his backpack straps on his shoulders, “my name is Ian.”

“Hello, Ian. How may I help you?” a girl with a rich, dark mahogany skin wearing a septum ring seated behind the rectangular table greeted him with a smile.

“Uhm, I’m a freshman…”

“Oh, which course?” 

“Econ.”

“Wow, good for you.” 

Ian felt his cheeks heating up. He cleared his throat, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Ian. My name is Koda, I’m the one in charge of all registrations for this morning.” She smiled at him and continued, “Are you here to sign up in our club?”

“Uhm, yeah. If there’s still slots left.”

“Actually, there’s a few more for the second team.” Koda scanned her eyes on the table and grabbed a pen placing it on top of a clipboard. “If you can give me your school ID and fill up the application form.” Ian unzips his backpack and gets his ID card handing it to Koda, while she places the clipboard with a bunch of paper on top in front of Ian. “Give this back once you’re done filling it in, Ian.”

“Sure, thanks.” 

Ian walked to a 3 x 4 feet wide plant box that is elevated to the ground by a couple of feet and sat there with the clipboard on his lap. He answers the questions, everything pretty much basic questions until the part where he was asked about his medical history, travel requirements and restrictions. _Travel restrictions?_ Ian read the part about cross country and overseas competitions. He muses to himself, Mickey would’ve loved the idea of traveling and riding his bike somewhere, even travelling out of the country. Ian imagines him and Mickey, just them, their bikes and the long road, riding somewhere, moving down, maybe even up the road or trail, their legs pedaling with exertion, as they pass a river or a bridge, their bodies leaning forward as they push their bikes to move faster and faster until all they could feel is their bodies in motion and the speed of their bikes. 

He needs to tell Mickey this later, tell him how he imagines them doing that. Maybe right after Mickey’s class which is a few hours from now. And he can’t wait to tell him this, can’t wait to hear what Mickey thinks of it. Ian wonders if Mickey has a lot of homework to do, wonders if he had the time to talk to Ian later. Fuck, Ian is actually swamped with homework to last him the rest of the weekend. But the need to talk to Mickey, to check up on him everyday, see what he’s up to, hearing him, his voice, makes Ian feel that he’s with him in New York.

It’s not common for anybody to be daydreaming in the middle of the day, in the middle of a very crowded, with very loud young people milling about in a 50 x 70 meters big quadrangle. Ian muses, he might be so deep into his thoughts that he almost missed out on a few more questions. It would be embarrassing to give the application back to Koda without him even finishing filling it up properly. She might think he’s not that interested to join their club.

He finished filling out the registration form and went back to the booth handing the clipboard to Koda.

“Hey, you’re done?” She looked up at him as she handed another clipboard to a student.

Ian smiled, remembering that he was still holding the borrowed pen. “Yeah, and uhm, here’s your pen.” placing the pen on top of the table

“Oh yeah, thanks.” Koda says, popping the pen back in the plastic holder. “Alright, so we will be sending you an email confirming your membership to the club. Also we will be informing you when the clinic starts.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for signing up, Ian. I’m sure you’ll have fun in our club.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Koda. Uhm, yeah, I’ll be waiting for the email. See you around.” He smiled then gave her a small nod.

“Sure thing, Ian.” She tipped her head at Ian and gave her attention back to the other students who were registering for the cycling club.

Ian moved out of the way quickly from the people who suddenly appeared in front of Koda, the girl trying to attend to their inquiries one by one. He hears her shout out “I need reinforcements here” before Ian had spun away, head down as he walked back to where Johnson parked the car just a few meters away. 

“Well hello there, fiancè?” Olivia said standing in front of him, arms crossed in front of her chest, blocking his way.

Ian gasped, eyes widening at the sight of Olivia, stopping him from his tracks. He took a step back, both his hands automatically gripping the straps of his backpack. “Oh hey, Olivia.”

“Hey? That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Nice to see you, uhm...” He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “Olivia.”

“What, you’ve already forgotten the name of your fiancè?” She laughed, darting her eyes over his shoulder. “Have you signed up for something?”

He looked back and jutted his chin towards the booths, “Yeah, signed up for the cycling club.”

“Cycling club? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She held out her hand to him, “Come, you’ve got to meet my fraternity brothers and get you in a proper club.”

“But, but…”

“No, Ian. As a Gallagher, you should be part of a fraternity and not some boring cycling club.” Olivia flips her blonde hair to the side, “Besides, it’ll look good in your CV, not to mention the people you’ll meet that’ll help you when you get to run your company.” 

She gripped his hand tightly as they strode to the area of the quadrangle where all the booths for the fraternities were. Olivia waved and greeted people as they walked towards her sorority’s booth, even side hugging a few people along the way and introducing them to Ian. He nodded and smiled as she told him their names and immediately forgetting it after. Ian looked straight ahead, his head hanging low as they got closer and closer to Kappa Kappa Gamma’s booth. He swallowed and braced himself with the possibility of an onslaught of strangers that he needed to be friendly with even though all he wanted to do is go back to his apartment and talk to Mickey. 

Ian sighed, he has to remember to just go with whatever Olivia wanted to do now, maybe she’ll have mercy on him and let him go after. 

“Hi guys.” Olivia said cheerfully to a group of people in the booth, her hand clasping Ian’s hand tightly.

“Who have you got there, Olivia?” A guy leaning at the side of the tent said slowly, his eyes darting over Ian.

The tips of Ian’s ears started burning. “Well Kev, this is my fiance, Ian. Ian Gallagher.” She sing-songs his name as she looks at him with this fake smile, making Ian cringe. He looked around, his eyes scanning at every face in front of him and saw them looking at him like he’s some sort of prey. “Okay, guys, be nice.” Olivia says as her hand strokes his arm, “We don’t want to scare him.” 

Ian was dragged from one person to the other, exchanging fist bumps and high fives to the people around them. They started moving closer and closer to Ian, invading his space like they’re his friends, like they know him. He felt himself getting smaller and smaller, the air around him getting thick. Ian felt like he couldn't breath. 

“Olivia.” He says, his voice was surprisingly hoarse.

She appeared to not have heard him, with the way that she continued chatting with her friends, her hands waving in front of her animatedly.

“Olivia.” He said louder. Olivia’s head snapped at him, her friend’s mouth hanging open as she stopped mid-talk.

“What is it, Ian?”

“Uhm,” Ian’s mind goes into overdrive, trying to think for an excuse to leave, “I have a class in a few minutes. And, I…” he licked his dry lips, “I’m sorry, don’t want to be late.”

Olivia stared at him with one of her well sculpted eyebrows raised. “Is that so.”

“Yes?” Ian swallowed and stood up straighter.

“Yes?” she dropped his hand and faced him, crossing her arms in front of her, Olivia’s heated eyes were boring on him, making his lips twitch.

_No._ “Yes. And I…” He unconsciously stepped backward “need to go, like right now.”

“Okay.” Olivia gave him a tight smile, dropping her gaze to his feet, then fluttered her eyes back up. She smirked, bringing her hand up to his cheek, patting it lightly. “As much as I want you to stay and get to know my friends,” her hand held his face, “I don’t want you to be late for your class. We’ll talk later, okay?” 

Olivia leaned in and kissed him on the lips, Ian flinching. She whispered to his cheeks, “Ian, get your shit together. People around here know we are engaged. Act like we’re fucking engaged.”

A chill ran down Ian’s spine, the hair at the back of his neck standing up. Ian’s eyes flickered on Olivia’s face. She looked furious for a split second, then her face morphed into something pleasing as she pretended to nuzzle on his cheeks. As if it was just natural for Ian to do, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry I have to go, babe.” He said unnecessarily louder. “I’ll call you later, okay.” 

He leaned back, looked at Olivia with a huge smile on his face, baring all his teeth like a fucking lunatic.

“Don’t over do it, Ian.” Olivia whispered, pinching his arm, “Yes, darling.” She said then pecked him on the cheek, “I’ll wait for your call. Have fun in your class.” nudging him lightly, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Yeah, uhm. Bye.” Ian awkwardly waves at the people around them, nodding briefly at Olivia before turning completely, walking fast to the parking area.

Fuck. _Fuck._

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hand shaking. Ian instinctively dialed 2.

“Hi.”

  
  


__________

  
  
  


Same day

12:05 PM

  
  
  


Mickey is done for the day. His English Composition class got cancelled last minute, and he can’t wait to get to work on Professor O’Brien’s equations. He’s got to hand it to Troy and his massive skills in haggling, or else he wouldn’t be able to buy his new laptop for that amount if it wasn’t for him. Mickey needs to remember to treat him to something, maybe even have a drink sometime with Brian. 

There were a few students walking on the hallway, some were looking at the bulletin board for their class schedules and assignments, some even looking for temp jobs. He was about to step down the stairs going to the main lobby when he heard his name being called out by someone.

“Mickey. Hey, Mickey Milkovich!” 

He turned around and saw a petite, brunette girl with glasses, walking fast towards him almost from the very end of the hallway. She had her books held tightly in front of her, her hair put up on a messy bun on top of her head. Mickey stood motionless, holding one of his back straps, confused as to why she had wanted to speak to him. When she had finally reached him, she sighed loudly, appearing breathless as she hunched down, one hand holding her knee trying to catch her breath.

“Holy shit, I thought...” She breathed heavily, “Whew, fuck. I thought I wouldn’t be able to catch you.” She held a finger in front of him. “Jesus fucking Christ, one second.”

“Uhm, are you okay?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, brandishing her finger at him. “One. Second.”

Mickey waited for a few seconds and let the girl catch her breath. She took a huge breath and let it out loudly through her mouth while saying. “Uh kay.”

“Okay?”

“Yup, Okay. I got it.”

“Uhm, do I know you?”

“Oh shit, sorry. Yeah.” She tilted her head to the side, “I mean, maybe. I’m in your class.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, I was sitting behind you. You’re a very good note taker.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Yeah, I was looking at your head, you have a very nice head by the way. And Professor Mitchell was talking so fast, I could barely keep up.”

_Oh, she’s in his Architectural Design class._ “Okay.”

“Well, so I peeked at your notes and saw you jotting down the chapters we need to read into for the weekend. But the thing is,” She drops her books on the floor, together with her red backpack. The girl unzips her bag and pulls out a big spiral notebook. “Okay,” She began to sit on the floor, crossing her leg on top of each other, “Hey, come sit with me.” pulling him by the hems of his pants.

“Wait, what are we doing?”

“Sitting on the floor, dummy. What else?”

“I don’t even know you?” 

“I’m Sophia, Soph if you want to be my friend. Now can you sit down with me, I have questions.”

_Jessuz._ Mickey unwillingly sits on the floor, dropping his own bag to the floor and sits crossed legs in front of Sophia, pulling the notes from their class in his bag

“Alright, so my notes says Creativity, which is the cognitive design process in the studio, has a direct relationship with students’ cognitive and cultural schemes. So this person, Engelbert…”

“Engestrom.” 

“Oh right, Engestrom. You see, this is the reason why I should sit next to you next time so I can hear clearly. So Engestrom explained, the source of creativity is not found inside a person’s head but emerges from the interaction between a person’s thoughts and his/her sociocultural context. What did the Professor say about the three personal characteristics that affect the design process?”

“Uhm, motivation, emotional stress and regression.”

“Fuck, so heavy.” Sophia shook her head as she jotted the words hurriedly in her notebook. “Okay, I think I got the rest perfectly, or not. I...shit.” She scans her eyes on the pages of her notebook. “I have to rewrite these things later. Damnit.”

Mickey smiled looking at her, as she drew arrows and used her neon green highlighter to emphasize some of the words. She seemed like a very fussy person, not like an obsessive-compulsive type, but odd, in a cute way. “You want to borrow my notes? You can just give it back to me on Monday.”

Sophia looked up, her eyes wild, “No. No, that’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

“I mean, you need to read your notes right? Go over them during the weekend.”

“I’ve already read it after our class, like during our break. I don’t think I need to reread them again this weekend.”

“But, we have homework. Aren’t you going to do them too?”

“I, uhm,” Mickey scratches the back of his neck, “I already did them while I was having my lunch.”

“What the fuck? All of it, all two chapters?”

“Well,” Mickey was cut off by the ringing of his phone, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.” 

He stands up, pushing himself off the floor. Mickey walked a few steps away from his odd classmate that he is quite getting fond of. He hit the green button and said, “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Ian?”

“Mick, hi.”

“You okay?” Mickey leaned on the wall, his back resting on the hard surface. There is something different in Ian’s voice, like he’s stressed. He hears him sighing a few times before speaking up again.

“I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Everything alright? Did something happen?” For some reason, the only time Ian gets tensed or strained is when Olivia is involved. And Mickey can feel it, that something happened with Olivia and Ian is having trouble dealing with it.

“The usual… stuff.” Ian mumbles. “I just want to go home.”

“When’s your next class?”

“In two hours. I had to lie to Olivia just to get the hell away from her.”

Mickey exhaled, shoving his hand inside his pocket, “You already eaten yet?”

“Not yet.” Ian groans.

“Ian,” Mickey smiles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Go get you lunch, maybe take a short nap after. I’m done for the day, you can call me anytime.”

“Can you take a nap with me? Like when I get back to my apartment and when I’m about to nap, can I call you and we can sleep together even if you’re like eighty miles away from me?”

Mickey bit his lip, trying to stifle a laugh. He knows Ian may be pouting, maybe even doing that doe eyes thing he does sometimes, “Okay, call me when you get home and we’ll take a nap. But make sure you eat first, Gallagher. I don’t need you starving for your next class later.”

“Are you going home now?”

“Yeah, in a bit. I have to talk to this classmate of mine who wants to borrow my notes.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah, _she’s_ cute,” Mickey said, stressing on the pronoun. “Very cute, in a quirky kind of way.” Mickey glanced back to Sophia, whose head is whipping back and forth from her notes to Mickey’s, her messy bun becoming messier and messier. He snickers, “She’s an odd one, very demanding and very in your face, you know. Like a baby Pitbull with glasses. I think you’ll like her.”

“New friend?” 

“She can be, I dunno.” Mickey shrugs, but he knows Sophia will become his friend in school. He most definitely can see that happening. 

“That’s good. That’s good, Mick. Do you… want to take a nap with me later?”

“Ian, you don’t have to ask me. Of course I will. I’ll probably be home in forty five minutes. You can call me by then.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you. I’ll call Johnson to pick me up so we can grab lunch.”

“Man,” Mickey says, his face scrunching, “to have a Johnson in your life so you can do normal stuff to help you do your humanly needs.” He said teasingly.

“Fuck you, I’m not an infant.”

“Are you sure?” Mickey scoffed. “Cause I think you want people to baby you.”

“Mickey, I’m having a fucking bad day, okay!” Ian huffed on the other line.

“Okay, okay Gallagher. Calm down.” Mickey cackled, lifting his body off the wall. “Alright, I’m going home now so we can take a nap later. Happy?”

“Yes, please hurry home. I wanna sleep with you again.”

“Yeah, baby.” He exhaled a smooth breath, “Me too.” Mickey walked to where Sophia’s at, who’s still sitting on the floor.

“Have I told you I love you yet?”

“Yeah, you did Ian. You just told me that this morning.”

“Okay, so this is my I love you for the afternoon, then I'll call again later to tell you my I love you for the evening.” Ian says with a slight lilt in his voice.

“You’re such a dork.” Mickey chuckled, “I love you too. Call me later, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you.”

“Okay.”

“ ‘kay.”

  
  


**CLICK**

  
  
  


Mickey shoves his phone inside his pocket smiling. His hand went up to his burning ears, which is a bit warm to touch, his fingertips lingering on it as the phantom feeling of a phone tightly pressed on it just moments ago remained.

“You talk to your boyfriend often?”

_What._ “What?” Mickey almost jumped back from hearing Sophia’s voice.

“You talk to your boyfriend a lot? That’s sweet if you do.” She said without looking up at him. Sophia put her spiral notebook inside her backpack as she uncrossed her legs, picking her books as she pulls herself up. She hands Mickey his notebook. “Here, I’ve copied most of your notes. I don’t think I need to bring it home with me anymore.”

“You sure, I mean it's no big deal Sophia.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Just don’t forget to leave the chair next to yours free on Monday. We’ll be seatmates from now on, homie.”

“Sure.” He snorts, his face morphing into something fond.

“Okay, bye Mickey. See you on Monday.” Sophia walks away, waving her hand animatedly at him. 

He watches her go down the stairs with a huge grin on his face. Mickey muses, yeah, he thinks Sophia can be his new friend. And the thought of that happening he’s totally not opposed to.

It took him exactly fifty minutes to get back to his apartment. The ride in the L went by so fast. He even got a couple of glazed vanilla bean donuts and coffee at the Doughnut Plant that he can munch at while he was walking down his street then up the stairs to his building.

His phone rang just as he was opening the door of his apartment.

“Yay,” Ian said breathily, “You picked up.” 

Mickey snorted, “What is happening to you?” He pulled his phone away from his ear and saw two missed calls all from Ian. He shakes his head then kicks his shoes off, his left shoe hitting the side of the couch. There wasn’t time for him to go to the bedroom, Mickey wanted to just lay somewhere so Ian could have his nap. He’s probably so stressed from school and from Olivia. _Ugh, what happened with him and Olivia now?_

“Are you comfortable?” Ian asks, his voice soft.

“I’m just about…” Mickey sits in one of the arms of his couch, his butt sliding until his back hits the cushion making a soft thud. Mickey lets his legs dangle on the edge of the couch, swinging it back and forth as he listens to Ian breathing at the other end of the line, “Okay, I just laid down on the couch.”

“Are you naked?”

“Ian, are we really doing this? We were supposed to be napping, not having phone sex.”

“Shit, we haven’t done that huh?”

“Ian.”

“Mickey, why haven’t we done that yet?” Ian sounded more excited than tired.

Mickey rubs a hand to his face, “Ian, we were both busy. It’s our first week in college. C’mon man, we were supposed to be napping before your class.”

“But phone sex, Mick.” Ian stubbornly says, “Why would you not want us to have phone sex?”

“Ian,” Mickey sighed, “We’ll do that soon, okay. But not this afternoon when you need to be in class in an hour.”

“But…”

“Would you rather we just talk about what happened a while ago and not nap?” 

“No, I would rather we take a nap now.”

“Okay, do you want me to tell you a story while you doze off, Gallagher?” 

“Yes, please.” Mickey hears shuffling on Ian’s end. “Please tell me a story.”

“Alright, story time.”

Mickey tells Ian what he did the whole day, from the moment he woke up 'til the time he got into City Tech, describing all the people he saw in the train. He was telling this scene he saw on the train when a group of guys started dancing inside the train, holding their boom box by the arm, blasting hip hop music as they made their moves. He was making an elaborate story of how they all looked so cool and funky, wearing their cool outfits, all of them wearing the same black Samba sneakers. A lot of the passengers started taking pictures with them, even taking videos as they danced. 

He hears the distinct sound of even breathing from the other end of the line as he finishes his story. Mickey smiled as he listened to Ian’s sounds. His soft breathing, the huffing sound he makes as he lets out air from his slightly opened mouth. He stayed on the line, keeping as silent as possible as he let Ian sleep. 

Mickey wakes Ian up about half an hour later, calling his name softly but persistently until he roused from his sleep. Ian asked him if he took a nap as well. He said of course not, because he needed to be up to wake him gigantor ass up. Mickey admits he couldn’t, would rather stay up, let Ian have his rest, so he won’t be grumpy for his next class. 

They each promised to talk later before they sleep. Ian insisted that Mickey to not to hang up later, and have his phone plugged all night, so they could listen to each other sleeping. Mickey says yes, promising to do that, like he could ever say no to Ian. He thinks saying no to Ian is not ever possible.

This has become a routine for them, Ian and Mickey calling each other in between their classes, or at random times during the day, texting each other incessantly with whatever is happening in their lives, trying to cheer each other up when one felt the other needed it at the moment. 

It has been happening a lot now, Mickey sensing Ian’s desperation as the days went on. And it has been two weeks since they last saw each other, and to be honest, he’s been feeling desperate too, a bit lonely. The calls and messages are just not enough. It will never be enough. 

Mickey can’t help it. It has been creeping up on him slowly, even if he tries to ignore it. Tries and tries until he feels he’s not falling into these fits of loneliness. The only way he can deal with it is by putting all his energy into school. Doing his readings in advance, even completing his homework the day it was posted on blackboard, just so he could have ample time to talk to Ian, even if it's just for a few minutes, even if it's hurried. 

There was one night when it almost consumed him, this need. This need that he has been suppressing for days. And he wants to see Ian, wants to be with him. They are only but two hours apart. He can easily take the train and be in Connecticut with him. If he does this, his need will be placated, and he will be severely satisfied. He can finally touch Ian, be physically close to him. He can taste him, feel his warmth, and make love to him for hours, and show him how much he misses him, how much they miss being together. 

But one of them had to be stronger, more stable. And it has to be Mickey, he has to remain focused. Because with the way Ian has been needy lately, he is sure Ian is already on the edge, and he has to help him, keep him at bay with his emotions.

Mickey has to keep everything in perspective. They went to college for a reason, it was meant to not to be an easy task. Mickey got his scholarship as pure luck, and he has to prove it to himself and to his sponsor that he was worth it, worth that much amount of money to get educated and be somebody. He had to earn that title of being called a boyfriend of a Gallagher or even be associated with a Gallagher. And he has to be patient, they have to be patient. 

A few more weeks until winter break, and they can see each other again. Mickey can finally be with Ian again.

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  
  


October 14, 2006

11:35 AM

  
  
  


“C’mon Mickey, tomorrow is our last day of exam. We can go out and have drinks at the Lion’s Head after.” Sophia whines as they are having their group study in the library. 

They were seated parallel to each other, and were occupying the same table they always sat at in the library whenever they did their group studies. There were a few other people with them, their usual group, Bill, Alice and Sean who were looking at Sophia with tired eyes. 

The group have been study buddies for a week, having formed this bond for their love of Architecture and numbers. Sean was a returning student, dropped out after only a few weeks in City Tech. He took a sabbatical a year before to get married and have a baby, hence the constant haggard look on his face. _Poor guy._ Bill is like Mickey, he has worked all his life, and is still working as a server in a shitty restaurant in the Bronx to pay his bills. Alice is like Sophia, a very odd, very eccentric girl, who only wears black, and dyes her hair to a different color every week. She’s cool, even if half her notes are composed of doodles and not actual notes from the lectures. But when it comes to making diagrams though and PowerPoint presentations, she is the person to go to, she can practically whip out a graphic design in minutes. 

“C’mon, I’m sure you’ve aced your Algebra exam. Professor O’Brien almost lost his shit when when you submitted your booklet. Flipping on it the second you handed it to him with this maniacal smile on his face.” 

“You don’t know that.” Mickey furrowed his eyebrows as he highlighted the citation from _Turgut_ from his thesis _A Method for the determination of culture-behavior-space interaction system._ “Besides, all our grades will be posted next week. No one knows how we all did.”

“Fuck, are you serious? You’ve been solving every equation O’Brien has been whipping out for weeks. You even got the extra credits ones.” She widened her eyes at him, pursing her lips for emphasis.

“Seriously Soph, we still have one more exam tomorrow. Can we just quietly read for a few hours so we can all go home before three?”

“Why, you have a hot date with your boyfriend?”

Mickey looked up from his book and stared at Sophia, “No, I don’t have a hot date with my boyfriend.” he exhaled a long exasperated breath.

“Why do you need to go back to Manhattan by three then?” Sophia’s eye never wavered away from Mickey’s. She raised her eyebrow and continued, “Why are you hiding your boyfriend from us? Does he even exist?”

“Soph, I swear to god…” Mickey’s lips tightened, forming a straight line. “I’m not hiding him from anybody. He’s in Connecticut doing the same thing we’re doing right now… studying, which for some reason has become an unwarranted interrogation.”

“I’m not interrogating you, what the hell. I’m just asking normal questions between friends. I tell you my hook ups all the time.”

“That you willingly tell me even if I don’t ask you to.”

“But I knew you would ask eventually. I’m just making it easier for you, Mickey.”

He shook his head, his face softening even if he is slightly annoyed, “Can we go back to studying, Soph. That is why we are here in the library for right?”

Sophia sucked breath through her pursed lip, “Fine. Fine, Mickey. But we’re going out tomorrow whether you say yes or not. I’m not bringing my car and we’re all gonna get a cab together, go to the Lion’s Head then fucking get pissed drunk.”

“Sure, Soph. Whatever you say.”

“Aha, you said yes. Yassss!” She stood up, her chair making a screeching sound as she pushed it back by her foot. She raised her right arm fist bumping the air.

“Can you fucking sit down, Sophia!” Mickey pulls her down by her shirt, looking around them with nervous eyes. He was sure they would be asked to leave the library, even be banned from coming back. Bill, Alicia and Sean slid down from their chairs, trying to hide below the table, chuckling and snickering like children. 

“Ssshhhh!” The people from nearby tables shushing them loudly 

“I’m sorry.” Sophia raises both her hands, palms up. Apologizing to random people around them. “I’m sorry.” 

She sat meekly beside Mickey, her face scrunched up and flushed. “Okay, I’m gonna be quiet now. No more shouting and fist bumping.”

“Are you done now? Can we go back to studying?” Mickey looked at her sideways, a small smirk on his lips.

“Yes, I’m done. I’m ready to read Purcell now.”

“Good, now make us an outline of the design processes.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” Sophia making a poor excuse of a salute.

He shakes his head, a smile stretching across his face. Mickey tilted his head to Sophia and said, “Remind me again why we’re friends?”

  
  
  


_________

  
  
  


October 15, 2006

5:45 PM

  
  
  


Ian had been looking at the screen of his laptop for an hour now. Jessie, from his Econometrics class told him about this program, this website really, that many of the students in the campus have been getting obsessed about for a year now. He heard of it from a friend of a friend a few months ago. This friend of his has even asked him if he wants to invest in this social media site that Harvard students have been using for a couple of years now. And this site has been very effective to connect to other students, even people outside the campus. Ian thought, maybe he should try it out, maybe even have Mickey go to this website, open his own account, make a cute nickname as his username, they could poke each other, be friends even, maybe even try out this chat feature in Facebook so they could message each other whenever. 

He started putting in his information, tried to be as vague and generic as possible. There was an option for him to upload a photo, and he thought he better put in a good one for his profile picture. 

Ian clicked on browse and opened the folder of the vacation photos of him and Mickey. He was looking at all the pictures fondly, as the memories of those forty eight hours started coming back to him. He clicked on a picture of Mickey. It’s a picture of him with his back turned away from Ian, walking along the wooden boardwalk of the Blue Trail at the Mashomack Preserve, the rays of the sun shining brightly over him. He looks like an ethereal being, with the harsh rays of light washing Mickey’s outline, saturating his image, making him look like a bright silhouette. He looked beautiful. Ian clicked on the photo and made it his profile picture.

There was an excitement that started running in Ian’s blood, and it’s making him feel impulsive, like he needed to do something now. He looked at the time, and realized it wasn’t really that late, he had a lot of time to spare. 

_A few hours ago he had taken his last exam for the prelims, had just eaten his late lunch with his friends, Hakeem and Eleejah at the Yorkside Pizza. Ian ordered the mashed potato pizza with extra cheese and Hakeem got the vegan buffalo wings. It was a fast friendship with these two, this fraternal twins that he had met in the cycling club._

_When they had their first session in the club, they were riding beside each other, hollering out encouragements as they biked along the trail. They began hanging out after the session, getting breakfast together then riding their bikes separately as they went to their respective classes. They are teammates, together with two other girls, and they had been training with each other for a few weeks. The five of them signed up for the first race of the year and this has been the source of excitement for Ian. He had been riding his bike with Hakeem and Eleejah daily at exactly five in the morning, doing at least a twenty mile route around the university. He needed that distraction, needed to burn some of his pent up energy._

_Ian was munching on his second slice of pizza when Eleejah asked him a question._

_“Will you be going back to the Hamptons this weekend, Ian?”_

_“No, I don’t plan to. Why?”_

_“Dr. Knobe said he won’t be back until the middle of the week. We are going to have a really long weekend, man. I mean,” She took a bite of her vegan wings, the red sauce smearing the side of her lips, “this is the best time to visit your family and maybe you know,” she winks at Ian “spend some time with the girlfriend.” Eleejah wiggled her eyebrows, giving him a sly smile as she wiped her mouth with a napkin._

_Ian considers his reply, forcing his mind to try and come up with something. He would like to tell her to fucking mind her own business but he wouldn’t, couldn’t really. He doesn’t want to ruin this new friendship that they have, doesn’t want to tell her anything remotely true about him and Olivia. Ian wanted to say he had other plans for the weekend, actually, he’s not even sure he’ll even do it._

_He sighed, “Yeah, long weekend.”_ _  
  
_

_“So, do you have plans?”_

_“I don’t know. Maybe.” he shrugs._

_“Is that right?” Hakeem butts in, leaning back on his chair “cause if you’re not going anywhere, Delta Kappa is having a house party tonight. We can make an appearance.”_

_No. “Yeah, sure.” he replied fast, like he was sure of coming._

_“Yeah, the girls from Kappa are going to be there for sure.”_

_“Uh huh.” Ian says looking at his hands, “Yeah, lots of girls.”_

_“Yeah, man. We gotta go to that party, Ian. It’s gonna be sick for sure!”_

_“Uh huh.” He’s got his head down, nipping on the cuticle of his right index finger. “Yeah, we should.” Ian pulls the skin on the side of his nail, making a small wound, a tiny drop of blood oozing from that break on his skin. He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking the blood._

_Hakeem knocked his knuckles on the table, making Ian twitch. “Okay, so we’ll just meet up there later?”_

_“No, I’ll… uhm, ” Ian mumbled, his lips still sucking on his finger. “I’ll bring my car to yours, pick you guys up so we can all go together.”_

_“Okay, we gotta wrap this up then,” Eleejah takes a huge gulp of her Diet Coke, “I need to swing by Anna’s dorm.”_

_“You bringing her to the party?” Hakeem asks._

_“Of course I’ll bring my girl. Who else am I gonna make out with to Daft Punk?” Eleejah says, her eyes bulging._

_“Sis, I know you just wanna rub how hot you guys look to half of the swimming team.”_

_“Fuck yeah, I do. Wanna stop those jerks from hitting on us whenever we go to the gym.”_

_Hakeem rolled his eyes on his sister, “El, it’s not like they can help it. Seeing you and Anna together is like in any warm blooded heterosexual young man’s fantasy. Do have mercy on their dicks and right hand, dear sister.”_

_“Or left.” Eleejah snickers, holding out her left hand. The siblings started laughing out loud, Hakeem making jerking off motions with both his hands. He looked over at Ian, his hand reaching out patting him on the shoulder “You up to do one more lap around the campus Ian?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. One more lap.”_

_“You okay, man?” Hakeem asks, his brows furrowing._

_“Yeah, I’m cool. Can't wait for the party.”_

  
  


He was wearing his maroon Harvard short sleeved jersey shirt under his white Nike zip up hoodie that night. It was pretty breezy that evening, the temperature going down to about fifty two degrees Fahrenheit. Ian had driven 81 miles from his apartment in New Haven to Mickey’s Chelsea apartment for over three hours, the traffic at the Brooklyn bridge making his trip longer than usual. He had decided split second to go to Manhattan instead of going to the party, the idea of seeing Mickey more alluring and satisfying than spending hours with horny and drunk teenagers. 

Right beside the peephole of Mickey’s door, Ian sees the familiar green stain that looks like it's mocking him from standing stationary for ten minutes outside the hallway. 

“Dude, you and Mickey had a fight?”

Ian turns around from the sound, his head snapping fast to his back, he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash. 

Timmy, Mickey's nosy young neighbor, had his head peeking out from their unit’s opened door. 

He spoke again, “Mickey pissed at you or something?”

“No.” Ian shook his head, “Shit, no.” He said firmer.

“Then why the heck are you just standing outside Mickey’s door then?”

“I was waiting.”

“Waiting for Mickey to telepathically open the door for yah?” 

“What do you mean telepathically?”

“He ain’t there, dude. Left with this short ass lesbo an hour ago.”

“Don’t ever call anybody lesbo, Timmy. You don’t know what she is.” 

“Whatever.” Timmy pulls the door wider, gets out from his apartment then stands by the door, his other hand holding the door knob. “Mickey went out with her an hour ago.”

“Right.” Ian sighed and grit his teeth behind his pursed lips. “Yeah, I’d just text him I dropped by then.”

“Why didn't you just do that before coming here, like text Mickey that you’re coming over?”

He flushed. Ian unconsciously brings his hand up, scratching the back of his neck. “Uhm, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

Timmy scrunches his face, “Having a boyfriend sucks. You have to do surprises and buy things for them.” he says leaning his body on the wall.

“You don’t want to have a boyfriend or girlfriend?” Ian asks, being careful of Timmy’s preference.

“Hell no, I’m a strong, independent man. I can live on my own.”

“You can still be strong and independent while having a girlfriend or a boyfriend, Timmy.”

“Nah, I’d rather be alone and have my money all for myself.”

“You’re still young, you still have time to find the perfect person.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t that young.” Timmy scoffs, “You’re not much older than me. I’ll be sixteen in December.” Timmy scowls. “Besides, how do you know you’ve found the perfect person?”

Ian ponders for a moment for the right response to what Timmy just asked him. _How does he know if he’s found the perfect person? Is Mickey the perfect person for him? Is he the perfect person for Mickey?_

He wanted to say, he doesn’t know, he’s not certain. Fuck, Ian doesn’t even know if this feeling, this thing they have will last.

But there’s a few things Ian is sure of, quite certain of. That when there’s something happening in his life, whether it be a happy one or a sad one, the first person he wants to tell it to is Mickey. That talking to Mickey, hearing his voice, knowing he’s at the other end of the line, just listening to him breathing, washes away the feeling that he is not alone anymore. And that having Mickey in his life makes it less gloomy, less desolate. Because he brings his life so much sunshine, so much brightness, that sometimes it scares him how intense the light is. And Ian doesn’t know if that ray of light will remain, will stay with him or will eventually go away. And he wouldn’t dare, can’t even imagine his life not having that sunshine. He will never allow that, will never let his sunshine go away. 

Ian believes that meeting Mickey was fate, and it was and is a continuous beautiful fate for him and Mickey. And fuck it, he’ll do anything, he’ll even follow Mickey anywhere, anytime. He will drive 81 miles just to be with him, even if he’s fucking dead tired. He will drive hundreds, even thousands of miles just to be with Mickey. 

He may not be perfect for Mickey, or will he ever be. But Ian is willing, he is ready to deserve Mickey’s love, to give him love. To make an endless loop of impossibility possible with him. 

And if that is his definition of perfect, then that’s it. Ian indeed found somebody perfect for him. He’s found Mickey.

  
  


“What are you doing here?” 

Mickey walked into the hallway and found Ian and Timmy talking, both leaning on opposite sides of the wall, facing each other. 

  
  


_A little past nine in the evening, Mickey got a text from Sophia that she’s already outside the building with Sean and they’re riding in a big yellow taxi that’s parked right across the street. He wasn’t wearing anything special, it’s not as if he was going out to find a hook-up. At most he’ll probably have a drink or two until he calls it a night. Mickey didn’t even think of fixing his hair or even wear that damn leather jacket that always catches a few people’s attention whenever he uses it. He doesn’t intend on catching anybody’s attention tonight to be honest, not that he needed other people’s attention directed at him ever, thank you very much._

_Mickey opted on wearing something comfortable, fuzz free. He had on a regular band shirt over his relaxed dark fitted jeans and his black tattered converse. To be honest, he probably spent a total of ten minutes getting ready, only prepping once he had texted Ian good night._

_There were a lot of people at Lion’s Head Tavern, he guessed mostly college students who were also done with their exams. Sophia was wearing a tank top with the sleeves cut off, showing her soft but lean arms. And for the first time since he met Sophia, she was wearing a skirt, an acid washed frayed jean skirt that goes up to half the length of her thighs, and cherry red doc martens that adorn her small feet. She got the first round of drinks, one tequila shot for the group with a glass of beer. Mickey knew she meant business when she announced the moment they set foot in the tavern that she’s there to get fucking hammered to the point that she won’t be able recognize anyone of them by the end of the night._

_He was actually counting the minutes until he had to say his goodbyes, which is a very rude thing to do when he had actually agreed on going out tonight. Mickey knew it was going to piss Soph the most when he leaves them, probably won’t be speaking to him after this. But who knows, maybe she’ll forget he even left early, with the way she’s been hitting one shot to another. Mickey needs to remind Sean and Alice to make sure she gets home safe tonight, maybe even tell them to call him once they’ve dropped her to where she lives._

_The thing is, he wasn’t feeling it. Mickey was staring at the crowd inside the pub, most of them drinking, laughing, dancing. Some getting in each other’s spaces, their bodies moving closer, limbs wrapping on each other, somewhat having the need to touch._

_Mickey says to himself, this is not for him anymore. He’s got no need for it._

_A few hours ago, the idea of going out with his friends was an appealing thing to do. He was trying to convince himself that he’ll definitely have fun going out tonight, had agreed to it because Sophia was in a celebratory mood. And it is truly a celebration. What they’ve all accomplished is really something to celebrate about. Especially Mickey, this is like another milestone for him. He had done something he thought wasn’t possible since he’d moved to New York with just a few bucks in his pocket. There's no harm getting drinks with his friends especially if everybody is in a jubilant mood. And he thinks, maybe he deserves a drink for that._

_There were a couple of guys in the other table who kept on eyeing him, giving him looks that would make anyone’s skin tingle, burn even. But for some reason, all it gave him was this unsettling feeling that he would rather hear someone’s voice, this particular voice that makes him feel warm and safe._

_Mickey looked down on the glass in his hands, this amber colored fluid that he had not drank with his friends when they said they should take the shot together. He shakes his head and takes the other glass in front of him, downing half of it, before slamming it on the table. That’s all he’s going to drink tonight. This overpriced, watered down ale that Sean ordered for them. He’s had it, it’s time for him to go back home._

  
  


Ian turns his head to the sound of the voice and sees Mickey standing at the end of the hallway.

“Mick? I thought you went out with your friends.” He pushes himself off the wall, his feet reflexively moving towards Mickey like he's a magnet.

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked again, eyes blinking at Ian, his feet firmly planted in place. 

“Uhm, I came to see you.” he reached to where Mickey was standing and held his hand. 

“But I thought you were already sleeping in your apartment. I even texted you before I left.” he said, his head tilted up. 

“It was meant to be a surprise, Mickey. Duh.” Timmy snorted.

Mickey glanced over Ian’s shoulder and said, “Thank you for that information, Timmy. Now get the fuck inside.” huffing out a breath. 

Ian laughs softly, his face hidden from Timmy’s sight. 

“I’m not going inside. I’ll leave when I want to.” Timmy stubbornly said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Mickey grinned, “So you would rather stay out here and be a perv watching us make out?” he wounds his hands on Ian’s neck, not breaking eye contact at Timmy. He pulled Ian’s head gently down towards him, an amused smile on his face.

“Ugh, why are you guys.... Okay fine. I’m going inside.” Timmy opens the door to his apartment and slams it but not before saying, “I hate boyfriends!”

Ian and Mickey started laughing, their happy noise echoing through the empty hallway. Ian pulled Mickey to his chest, their bodies still shaking from laughter that slowly turned into giggles.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He inhaled deeply, the scent of Mickey starting to permeate his nostril.

“I missed you too.” Mickey sighed over Ian’s chest. “Johnson outside?”

“Nope, just me.”

Mickey pulled back, “You drove all the way from New Haven to Manhattan alone? Are you insane?”

“Why is that insane? It’s not my first time driving, Mick.”

“I know, but you said you were so tired you’ll be sleeping for days after your exam.”

“I’m never too tired for you, Mickey.” Ian smiled, leaning in, planting a wet kiss on Mickey’s forehead. 

“Oh shut up with you trying to be cute and not being tired.” Mickey wipes the moisture from his forehead, “C’mon, let’s go inside. I’ll make you something to eat.” pulling a grinning Ian towards his apartment by the arm.

  
  
  


Ian propped his feet up on top of the table, resting his head in between two big cushions. 

“I like what you did here, babe.” He said, scanning his eyes around the small living room. 

In front of him is an old flat screen, tube type TV set, sitting on top of several books stacked together, rising approximately two to three feet off the floor. On the wall on top of the TV are some pictures of him and Mickey during their trip to Shelter Island, arranged like a pyramid on the flat surface and two framed art deco prints of buildings and random shapes. On the corner of the room is a two feet tall Autumn Fern plant, its green foliage almost spilling out from the white ceramic pot. 

The space looks so homey and warm, Ian thought. He doesn’t mind staying here for a while. Not at all.

“Here,” Mickey saunters from the kitchen, a sandwich and a couple of beers in his hands. “I hope you like peanut butter and jelly.”

“I love it, thank you.” Ian grabs one of the bottles and the sandwich then scoots to the side, pulling Mickey by the hems of his shirt, making his boyfriend sit beside him.

“Whoah, wait. I might drop the beer, idiot.” He huffs but with a smile on his face. Mickey plops on the couch sideways, his shoulder bumping Ian’s chest. Ian grabbed his waist to steady him as he righted himself up, his ass wiggling on the couch finding a comfortable position. 

Ian took a bite of the sandwich, licking the raspberry jam on his lips, “This is good, Mick. Thank you, baby.” Kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome Gallagher. Anytime.”

“Anytime?”

“Okay hold up, I’m not saying I’ll do this every time you come over. This,” he points his beer bottle at the sandwich “is only for special occasions.” then takes a swig of the beer.

“Aww, so this is a special occasion then?” Ian coos at Mickey. He bits his lower lip, eyes full of mirth before diving in nuzzling his face on Mickey’s hair. He loops his left arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his body. 

“Oh god, look at you.” Mickey groaned, pushing Ian’s face away from him. “Will you just stop and eat your goddamn sandwich.”

Ian gave him a loud peck on the cheek without untangling his arms on Mickey’s shoulder. He puts his sandwich on his lap, then places his beer on top of the table. He grabbed his food off his lap, taking one bite to another until he finished his sandwich then licked his fingertips for spilt jam.

“Are you staying over?” Mickey leans his head on Ian’s shoulder.

Ian stroked Mickey’s shoulder, “Yeah.” he let out a soft sigh, chin hooking over Mickey’s head.

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to each other breathing. Mickey lets his fingertips dance over Ian’s arm, going up and down, from his forearm to his wrists, letting the pads of his thumb graze over his knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“Fuck, I ditched my friends in the bar.” Mickey exhaled a breath, his head resting under Ian’s chin, “Can’t stand being there anymore.”

Ian chuckled, “Funny thing is, I did the same thing a while ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ditch my friends.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Hakeem, this guy I was telling you about, the one I go training with for the race? Well, he said this fraternity is having a house party, and him and his sister wanted to go. They sort of invited me and I said yes.”

“Okay.” he flips Ian’s hand, and slides his hand over it, entwining their hands together. 

“I said I’ll bring my car, pick them up in their dorms so we could all go together.”

“Hhmm, ‘kay.” Mickey closes his eyes, his body leaning more and more to Ian’s, his right thigh almost laying on top of his lap.

“So I picked them up, went to the frat house then dropped them off.”

“You didn’t come in?”

“Well, uhm..” He bit his lip, trying to stifle a laugh, “so I dropped them off then I told them I’ll just find a spot to park my car. I didn’t park the car, Mick.” Ian’s shook his head, grinning, “I drove away from the frat house to Manhattan without even telling them that I left.”

“Jesus, Ian. What if they’re out there looking all over for you?”

“I highly doubt that. The party was in full swing when I dropped them off. The amount of booze in that frat house itself will make them forget I even exist.”

Mickey moved his legs and swung them over Ian’s lap, half of his body almost laying on top of his boyfriend. “God, when did we become these friends who ditch their friends to go home and sleep instead of getting pissed drunk?”

Ian softly laughed “Would you rather go back out there than be here with me?”

Mickey tilted his head and looked at Ian’s face. “Nope.” he said quickly, “I’m fine here.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh huh. I’m okay wherever you are.” He kept staring at Ian’s face, his small smile growing wider as he looked on to his face. 

Ian leaned down and kissed Mickey’s lips gently, “Same.” he murmurs, “I’ll always choose to be with you wherever you are.” 

Mickey brushed their hands together, humming as he continued to stare at his boyfriend's face. Ian smiled, his arm slotting in between the crease of the couch and Mickey’s ass. They shared a look, both unconsciously leaning in, bringing their lips together. Ian grabs Mickey’s lower lip, nibbling on it before opening his mouth wider, pushing his tongue in Mickey’s parted lips. Ian deepened the kiss, making Mickey let out a soft moan. He wrapped his arms on Mickey's back, hoisting him on top of his lap. Mickey sits on his lap, his knees bracketing Ian’s body. He looped his hand around Ian’s neck and carded his fingers through his hair. Ian pulled back, smiling when he noticed Mickey’s pursed lips involuntarily following his motion. 

“You happy I’m here?” Ian asks Mickey, planting a small kiss on the side of his lips.

“Yes,” Mickey slowly opened his eyes, "very much." 

“I’m so glad we’re the kind of friends who ditch their friends to go home to this.”

“Yeah, me too. And I would never have it any other way, Gallagher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our college boys are not coping well apart, huh? i know, i've been there before. having a new relationship miles apart is tough, and i'm trying to make it work for them. i promise.  
> ***their classes are based on curriculum i googled from their respective courses, i may or may not delve into their college life. i dunno know yet, actually. but i want them to have the whole experience, but not that detailed, you know.  
> ***professor conrad o'brien is based, well the physical aspect is from this awesome comedian conan o'brien who i adore so much. teehee.  
> ***they've got new friends, yayy!!!! if you enjoy reading about them, you'll see them in and out of the next chapters. i'm so glad they have friends in college.  
> ***aaannnndddd, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!! specially to my gc girls and beta Pam! what is happening??!???? wow, can't believe you guys are enjoying my fic and are still here. love y'all so much. you guys don't know how much you make me happy. stay safe to all you guys! lots of love :)


	21. Of Monsters, Goblins and a bowl of Chicken Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one dressed like a rockstar, the other not. one or two scary movies, and a few phone calls. 81.2 miles is not as far as it seems now, but the something new, something scary, also someone watching might be the one that'll tear them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i breathe in slow to compose myself  
> but the bleeding heart i left on the shelf  
> started speeding round, beating half to death  
> 'cause you're here and you're all mine.
> 
> \- Incomplete by James Bay

  
  
  


October 16, 2006

8:12 AM

  
  
  


“Okay, so what do you want me to do again?” Mickey exhaled. He had been looking at the screen of his laptop, his fingers tapping on the keys as he put down his email address on the blank space. Ian was saying he should sign up on Facebook, since he had been on it for more than a week and he wanted them to be friends. 

_Friends. Is that what they are right now in this… Facebook?_

“Let me finish this fry up and I'll help you with that.” Ian said as he flipped the bacon with a fork. 

  
  
  


_It was still dark when Ian opened his eyes, the faint silver rays from the moon sipping through Mickey’s opened window barely providing light in the darkened room. They woke up a few minutes before the crack of dawn, Ian’s gangly arms wrapped around Mickey’s waist, their legs tangled under the sheets. He was the one who roused first, his bleary eyes making out the sleeping form of his boyfriend. They had just slept not so long ago, had talked for hours until the sounds of their voices were just merely whispers, mumbling mouths on each other’s skin. Ian found his face smooshed in between Mickey’s shoulder blades, the faint smell of sweat and that signature cologne of his that he loves so much on him invading his nose. He inhaled slowly, getting as much of Mickey’s scent in his system. The smell of his boyfriend stirred something in Ian, like he’s not satisfied with just the smell of him._

_Ian wanted to taste Mickey ._

_Ian kissed the back of Mickey’s neck, his tongue darting to his exposed skin. His hands began moving at their own accord, touching, sliding languidly from Mickey’s stomach down to his happy trail. It goes lower and lower, making sure not to touch his semi-flaccid dick, his hand reaching the warm space in between his thighs. He lifts Mickey’s left leg gently, slotting his left leg in between the heated area in his boyfriend’s groin, the downy hair tickling his skin. Ian smiled as he heard Mickey’s breath hitch, his hand trailing underneath his balls, the tips of his index finger pressing on his perineum._

_“Ian.” Mickey’s still gruff voice says._

_“Go back to sleep, Mick.”_

_“What are you doing?” Mickey rasps._

_He ignored the question and continued his ministrations. His index and middle fingers pressed harder on the damp warm skin, sliding lower until the tips of Ian’s fingers reached the rim of Mickey’s hole. A loud groan escaped Mickey’s mouth, his left hand involuntarily going up, reaching Ian’s neck, his fingers carding the back of his head. Mickey lifted his left leg wider, making Ian’s hand fit snugly in the sweaty crevice in between his groin and leg. Ian tentatively dips his middle finger inside his hole, the tight muscle constricting around the tip._

_“Fuck, Mickey. You’re so hot.” he licks the side of his neck, nipping on the juncture in between Mickey’s neck and shoulder._

_“Shit, Ian.” Mickey arches his back, pushing his ass back to Ian’s “Tell me you have the lube with you.” he breathily says._

_Ian almost growled with how much he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to stand and leave his pliant boyfriend on the bed to get the lube._

_“Fuck.” he huffed as he slides his arms away from the warmth of Mickey’s body, his long body scooting hurriedly off the bed. His bare feet smacked loudly on the floor, taking three short steps towards Mickey’s dresser, pulling the drawer harshly as his other hand rummaged through Mickey’s stuff. Ian took two condoms and the half filled bottle of lube, his hand almost dropping it as he pushed the drawer close._

_“While I’m still alive, Gallagher.” Mickey said, glancing over his shoulder, smirking._

_“Shut up.”_

_Ian almost leaped going back to the bed, taking only a step and a half as he lunged at the edge of the queen sized mattress, his right knee hitting the surface first. He crawled towards the end of the bed, Mickey rolling over on o his back, his knees gliding closer to him. Ian creeped slowly into his parted legs, swallowing thickly as he dropped the condoms and bottle of lube on the side of Mickey’s right leg. His hands gripped the backs of Mickey’s calves and made the V in between his legs wider. He moved closer, his knees hitting the underside of his thighs._

_Mickey’s eyes wandered from his boyfriend’s hands holding his thighs apart up to his chest, raising up and down as he took labored breaths. He felt the excitement thrumming on his skin with the feeling of Ian’s hands hitching his legs over his knees, his fingers digging on his skin. Mickey closes his eyes, breathing through his pursed lips trying to control himself from trembling to the sensation._

_“Mick, open your eyes.”_

_He slowly does so, his eyelids fluttering as his eyes focused on Ian’s face._

_“Ian.”_

_Ian smiled and laid on top of Mickey’s body, gripping his waist and sucked a kiss on his mouth. Mickey hummed as their lips connected, sucking on Ian’s upper lip, nibbling on the flesh when he felt Ian pulling back._

_“Turn around.”_

_“What?”_

_“Turn around and give me one of the pillows on your head.”_

_Mickey gasped when he felt Ian’s hands lifting his hips, his body turning as he gently pushed him onto his stomach. He pulled one of the pillows and shoved it down on the mattress, Ian grabbing it, one hand gripping Mickey’s hips, as he put it under his pelvis. Mickey wiggled his hips, arching his back trying to get a comfortable position by lifting his ass up._

_“Do you trust me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I will make you feel so good, Mick. Do you want to feel good, baby?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Alright, spread your legs for me.”_

_Mickey obliged, pushing his legs apart. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck standing, a trail of goosebumps forming from his arms down to his legs. Mickey knows what is about to happen, he knows what Ian will be doing to him, and yet here he was, unsure if he wanted it to happen._

_“Ian.”_

_Ian was mesmerized, his eyes roaming the naked body of his boyfriend. He brushed his hands up and down Mickey’s legs, tracing his fingertips from his legs up to the soft mounds of his ass._

_“You’re so beautiful.” Ian said, his voice low and deep. He dipped his head, kissing at random spots on Mickey’s thighs up to his buttock, his mouth sucking wet bites on the inner part of thighs. Mickey moaned, squirming with every bite Ian made. He kept going, licking and sucking until his lips reached the soft globes of Mickey’s ass. Ian pulled his head up, glancing at his handiwork of red bluish marks scattered on Mickey’s smooth, fair skin. And he thought it’s just beautiful._

_“Ian.” Mickey sighed, gripping the sheets at the sides of his head, grinding his hips on top of the pillow._

_“Sshhh, I’ve got you.” He smoothed his hands to the curve of Mickey's ass and parted his cheeks. Ian dipped his head again, blowing a warm breath to the puckered skin of his hole._

_“Ian.” Mickey 's body began to tremble, his hands clenching at the pillow under his head._

_He licked his lips and leaned in. Ian kissed the soft skin at the sides of his hole, nosing on the strong scent of sweat and arousal coming from his boyfriend._

_Mickey thinks he’s going crazy, he can’t decide if he wants this or not. His mind desperately saying this is too much, too intimate, too personal. But his body was doing the thinking for him, like it was involuntarily moving, pushing his ass closer to Ian’s face even when his mind was still deciding if he wanted to do it. He began to squirm, his hips bucking up and down as he felt the first flick of Ian’s tongue._

_“Ian.” he croaks._

_Ian held him down, digging his elbows on the sides of Mickey’s thighs, keeping it open. The bed creaked as his hands got a hold of the headboard, pulling and pushing it with every flick, every lick of Ian’s tongue on his hole. His pelvis kept on twisting, wiggling away, then back to Ian's warm and very persistent tongue. He doesn’t understand why his brain was still resisting this when his body was so willing to receive this pleasure. Mickey had to tell his mind to make his body stop writhing and just fucking let go and give in, give in to Ian. He flattened his body on to the bed, grinding his body on the pillow beneath his pelvis, and braced himself on the onslaught of Ian’s tongue._

_There were foreign sounds coming out from his mouth, sounds that he knew he hadn’t made before. A small amount of drool began to pool in his mouth, Mickey swallowing it down with an effort. He bits his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from making more of those disconcerting noises that’s making him feel so hot and warm._

_Fuck it, he knows he’d embarrassed himself enough to Ian, with how much he wanted his boyfriend eating him out, his tongue persistently lapping on his quivering hole. His body began to shake again as he felt Ian’s tongue probe inside of him, his strong tongue pushing relentlessly into his rim._

_“Ian.” he says weakly._

_Ian was determined, he had only seen this… act by watching porn. There was a time when this was the only scene that he’d want to watch in porn, forwarding the video to the exact moment when the actors were doing this very intimate act. Ian wanted to do it, wanted to know how it felt like. He didn't necessarily want to be the recipient of it to be honest, he wanted to do this to someone he feels very deeply for, somebody he trusts and who trusted him in return. And Ian knew, from the moment he had realized he loved Mickey, he was the right person to do this with, maybe even the only one he would do it to. And Ian will be good, will make it so good for Mickey._

_Ian flattened his hand on the swell of Mickey’s ass and pulled his cheeks wider, burying his face deeper in between the soft mounds. He darted his tongue in, swirling at first then around the rim, until he finally pushed in, making his tongue stiff and taut so it can breach through the small ring of muscle in Mickey’s rim. He felt a slight resistance, and had to force his tongue in the hole until he felt the slight suction, allowing more of his persistent tongue in. It was as if Mickey’s body had been waiting for the intrusion, maybe even hungry for it. His body started writhing with Ian’s ministrations, he had to push Mickey’s body down hard on the bed with his hands to make him stop moving. A soft whine left Mickey's lips as his thumbs began to make soothing circles on the inside of his thighs, the rest of Ian’s hands kneading on his soft flesh._

_He ducked his face further, his nose brushing at the downy hair on the crack of Mickey’s ass. His lips pulled on the skin around the rim, sucking on them until his mouth began to numb. It was wet everywhere, his spit dripping from his parted mouth to his neck. A slurping sound was heard when he pulled his head back to take a breather, his lips still pursed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as the feeling of phantom sensation of being inside Mickey still lingered. Ian brushed the back of his hand over his mouth, the moisture spreading to his cheeks._

_“F..uuck, Ian.” Mickey groaned, his ass bucking up, like it's searching, missing Ian’s tongue. His toes began to curl with the pleasure, his hands gripping the headboard tightly._

_Ian licked his lips as he took a breath, the taste of Mickey staying in and around his mouth. His jaw was already aching but he wanted to do it again, wanting the feel of a vulnerable Mickey in his mouth. Ian’s head leaned in, in spite of his aching jaw, teasing his tongue around Mickey’s rim. He dipped his index finger inside the hole, inch by inch, until Ian can see his finger go, the puckered lips enveloping the length of his index finger. He heard Mickey whimper as his finger went in and out of his hole, adding his middle finger the third time he jabbed at the tight ring of muscle. Ian continued to lick around Mickey’s hole, his fingers making a regular rhythm as it goes in and out of his body._

_“Ian please, I don’t want to come this way.”_

_He pulled his head up, his fingers continued fucking Mickey. “What do you want, baby?”_

_“I want you inside me.” Mickey says, his voice muffled as his face smooshes down on the pillow. “Please, fuck me Ian.”_

_Mickey lifted himself up, pulling the pillow beneath him then turned around. He looked at Ian’s wet and flushed face, his lips plumper than usual. Mickey pulled him by the neck and kissed him hard, his tongue swiping on his lip fast, darting it in Ian’s opened mouth. He tasted himself on Ian, this strong, musky, earthy taste that’s distinctly him. To some, this taste, this smell can be offensive, disgusting even. But Mickey doesn’t care, knowing that Ian just ate him out willingly, and not because he asked him to, but because he wanted to make him feel good, his toes even curling for how amazing it made him feel._

_Honestly, fuck it if it’s offensive, fuck it if it’s actually really disgusting. Ian does tasted ass, smelt like ass, but it’s his ass, goddamn it. And if he could ever love any person more, make him do life altering decisions to, fuck, Mickey just loves him. He fucking loves his boyfriend._

_“Babe wait.” Ian pushed his body back, turning his face away from Mickey. “I.. think I need to brush my teeth or something.” He puts a hand over his mouth, scooting backward. “I’m sorry, I should’ve..”_

_Mickey’s hand reached out, pulling Ian’s hand off his face. “I don’t care. Fuck, Ian, I would never care about that. Please..” he lifted himself up, hand going back at the back of Ian’s neck, “I love you. God, Ian, I so fucking love you.” Mickey leaned in, closing his eye and gave him a peck on the lips. He whispers into Ian’s mouth “Please.” Ian finally relented and kissed him back. He pulled him closer, his hands flattening at Ian’s back, forcing him down on top of his body. “Fuck me, Ian. Please, fuck me.” he says softly, biting on his trembling lower lip._

_“Mick, look at me. Mickey.” Ian thumbed his jaw tenderly until he opened his eyes. “I love you.”_

_They stared at each other for a beat, eyes glistening, a small smile playing on their faces. Mickey broke the moment and kissed Ian. He whispered, “Make love to me Ian.”_

_Ian slid his hands under the back of Mickey’s thighs, and hooked it on his hips, then grabbed a pillow, placing it under his body. He pressed his knees on the mattress and reached out at the bottom of the bed for the bottle of lube and condom. He opened the packet, pumping his dick a couple of times before rolling the condom on. He flicked the cap of the bottle of lube open, drizzling a few dollops on his palms, then rubbed it on his shaft._

_Mickey dug the heels of his feet on Ian’s back when he felt the slow press of his hard cock in his hole._

_He pushed into the tight heat, his eyes watching every expression on Mickey’s face. Ian was holding his body up, trying not to push himself fully just yet, letting Mickey get used to the feeling of him inside his body. He pressed in, gently still, until he completely bottoms out. Ian’s hands slid up to his hips, holding it tightly as he pulled out and then back down again, pushing into the tight heat at a slow pace._

_“Ian, please.”_

_It was as if a switch was turned on in Ian’s brain, and he completely understood what Mickey wanted. He pulled his legs by the back of his knees, hooking his legs on his shoulder, Mickey’s ass raising almost off the bed. Ian braced himself, gripping the underside of his thighs, fingers digging into his flesh. He rolled his hips backward, the tip of his cock the only part pressing in his rim. Ian snapped his hips, entering into Mickey forcefully._

_A trickle of sweat rolled from his scalp down his forehead, the beads of moisture dripping on Mickey’s heaving chest. Ian followed the drop of sweat sliding down until it reached Mickey’s neck. He looked at his boyfriend’s face as he kept fucking him. Mickey had his face turned to the side, his right cheek pressing on the pillow. His mouth was open, small, breathy groans coming out from it. He’s got his eyes shut tight, his brows furrowed deeply, like he’s trying to contain his true emotions. Ian hiked his thighs higher, lifting half of Mickey’s body off the bed. He started snapping his hip higher, faster, up and down, pushing his body harder to his writhing boyfriend._

_Ian was already feeling the build, their bodies movements sending pleasurable signals in his brain._

_Mickey cried out when Ian pushed his cock into his hole at the right angle, the muscles in his rim tightening around his shaft. Ian dug his hands deeper at the back of Mickey’s thighs, his folded knees pressing on to his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breath, couldn't move even if he tried. His body was completely at the mercy of Ian’s delicious assaults. But he loved it, loved the feeling of being filled and held tightly by Ian. Mickey twisted his shoulders to the side and lets out a loud moan. The rhythmic movement of their bodies faltering._

_Ian loosened his hold on Mickey’s thighs, sliding his hands to his hips. He leaned his body on Mickey’s sprawled legs, his hips snapping back and forth, the slapping sounds of their sweaty skin echoing throughout the room. Mickey whimpered as Ian's hard cock goes deeper, harder, his hips rolling, finding the right kind of prodding in the most sensitive part of his body. He tightened his grip on Mickey’s hip as he pounded in him, Mickey’s left hand shooting up, holding on the headboard, pushing his ass back at his dick. Ian lets Mickey drove his body unto his cock, the muscles on his arm straining, bulging angrily to keep up with the fast pace of his rim being fucked. Ian can already feel it, the pull in his gut rushing down to his groin. He clenched his eyes shut, his jaw slacking, lips contorting in a silent O as the pleasure builds and builds, until his body can’t barely control his impending release._

_“I’m so close. Feels so fucking good, Mickey.”_

_“Shit, fuck. I’m...”_

_Mickey arched his back, exhaling a loud breath followed by a guttural moan on his opened mouth. He stills, white, copious fluid spurting from his untouched dick onto his stomach. Ian thrusts a few more times, fingers pinning Mickey as he catches his own orgasm. It took him four pumps until he felt himself coming, body spasming, his grunts getting lower and louder. His body fell on top of Mickey as his cock kept on pulsing, emptying into the condom._

_They were holding each other, arms and legs tangled until the shaking of their bodies ceases, their breathing evening out._

_Ian rolled over, throwing his left arm on his face, right hand instinctively reaching out to Mickey. He puts it on top of his stomach, his fingers brushing the sparse hair on his navel._

_“Fuck. That was… wow.” Mickey says, placing his hand over Ian’s hand and stroking it, up and down from his knuckles to his wrists._

_“Yeah.” Ian breathes out._

_He huffed a breath “Fuck, I have never…” Ian peeking from his folded arm to look at Mickey's face, “Yeah.” He turned his face towards Ian, “You’re my first time.”_

_Ian rolls his body, his face merely inches away from Mickey’s. He brought his left hand to his boyfriend’s face, the back of his hand brushing his cheek._

_“You’re my first too.”_

_“Fuck. You’re so good. I almost came when you were doing that thing with your tongue.”_

_“I did a lot of things with my tongue a while ago, Mickey. Tell me which bit you liked most.”_

_Mickey hummed, eyes fluttering as Ian’s hand continued stroking his cheeks. He leaned his face into the touch, one corner of his mouth hitching up. He kissed the back of Ian’s hand and says, “All of it.”_

_Ian leaned in, cupping his jaw, kissing his lips softly, “All of it?”_

_“Yeah.” Mickey moved his face closer to a smiling Ian, the tips of their noses brushing._

_“Good. There’s actually more I wanna try….stuff we could do together. I wanna do more firsts with you.”_

_Mickey grinned, his eye getting cross eyed with how close their faces were. He raised his hand to Ian’s face, brushing the sweat off from his forehead. Mickey trailed his thumb to his eyes, nose, cheeks and to the corner of Ian’s lips._

_“I’d like that very much. Be each other’s first in some things.”_

_“Yeah.” Ian replied, nudging his nose to Mickey._

_“Uh huh.” Mickey says softy, then puckered his lips._

_“Cool.” Ian leaned in, capturing his lips._

_Mickey pulled back smiling and murmurs, lips just a breath apart from Ian's “Cool.”_

  
  


There were two huge plates laid on the counter beside the two burner oven, a variety of food splayed on top of it. Ian had the slices of tomatoes prepared first, putting it aside when he fried the sausages and eggs in a huge pan in one go. He knew Mickey liked his eggs cooked sunny side up with the yolk on the runny side, while he wanted his eggs scrambled with a touch of milk and cheese. 

Mickey had initially wanted to go out for breakfast, telling Ian exactly that when the sounds of his grumbling stomach distracted them from their lazy morning make out session. 

They had dozed off after taking a bath together an hour ago, ridding themselves of their dried cum and sweat, the strong smell of sex off their bodies. Ian giggled when he heard the sounds coming out of Mickey’s abdomen, his hand stuttering when they were giving each other hand jobs. Mickey had pushed him off the bed, his feet kicking Ian until he fell off the mattress, his ass hitting the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Ian was cackling hysterically, his belly aching as he pulled Mickey with him by grabbing his ankle. 

Mickey yelped when he felt the strong tug on his ankle, his body trying to squirm away from Ian’s hold. He had attempted to pull something, something that can make him not fall off the bed. His hand got a hold of the duvet, twisting the thick cloth in his hands as Ian kept on pulling his leg. But Ian seemed to be on a mission to bring him down with him and his attempts to stay on top of the bed was totally failing. The duvet got tangled on his legs instead, making the slide of his body smoother and quicker. Ian was howling as he saw him fall off the bed with a loud oof, his shoulder hitting the floor first while his left leg was left dangling at the edge of the bed, the thick duvet wrapped around it.

After they had composed themselves, their laughter turning into mere chuckles, they finally put on whatever clothes they could grab off from the floor. They hurriedly left Mickey’s apartment to get breakfast, thinking that maybe getting a sandwich, or even have some of that fancy coffee would be awesome. Ian had been wanting to have that custom made design froths in his hot drink that they could only have in that deli a few meters away from Mickey’s building. 

But then Ian had an idea. He insisted that they should get something fresh, maybe some produce from the small Asian grocery store at the end of Mickey’s street. Ian, for some reason, wanted to do something special for Mickey, wanted to cook him, make him breakfast, even if the only thing he knows what to make is a fucking fry up.

And that is why he found himself cooking in Mickey’s small, cramped kitchen, an apron wrapped around his hips, humming a tune with a huge smile on his face. 

“Alright, cause I really don’t get this, man. Why do I have to put in my birthday?”

The aroma of fried food lingered in the air as Mickey tried to figure out how to set-up his account on this social media site that seemed to be important to Ian. They had been talking about it since last night, Ian explaining how Mickey being on it will make their communication easier and faster. Mickey rolled his eyes at this, Ian frowning when he saw him do that. Like why have Facebook when they have their phones, as if the idea of calling or texting was some sort of an archaic means for them to talk on a daily.

Ian walks to the couch, his hands carrying their two filled plates and places them on top of the table. Mickey had his legs sprawled on the sofa, his laptop propped on top of his thighs. Ian sat beside him, arms automatically going at the back of the chair, Mickey instinctively laying his head on it. 

“You got everything in?”

“I have a lot of concern about this website. Why do I have to put all this information when you’re the only friend I actually have?” 

“That’s not gonna be true after a few weeks, I’m sure. Many universities already have this website up their portals. Almost all the colleges in the Midwest and the East coast have it. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

“You know I don’t care about this stuff. I’m perfectly fine with my ever dependable RAZR, thank you very much.”

“Speaking of your phone, I sort of uhm…” Ian pulls his arm from under Mickey’s head then sprints to the bedroom. He grabs his phone from the dresser and opens his Facebook account on google. The screen showed his profile pic and his username, ** _Ian Clayton_**. “Here, look what I did with mine.” Ian swings his leg on the couch handing Mickey his phone.

Mickey’s brows twitched as he grabbed the phone from Ian’s hand. He squinted his blue eyes at the screen and saw his washed out picture staring him in the face. His cheeks started warming up as he continued looking at Ian’s phone, chewing the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He dropped the hand that was holding Ian’s mobile and tilted his head at his boyfriend “This is me, Ian.”

“Yeah.” He nods, “I believe so, yeah.”

Mickey quirked an eyebrow, the smile he was stopping, desperately trying to hide, has now grown into a wide grin. “Why do you have my photo as your profile picture?” 

“Why, do you not want me to?” Ian thumbed the side of his lips, his brows furrowing, “I mean, it is a pretty photo of you Mickey.”

“Yeah, it is. But this is not you, Ian.” Mickey raised an eyebrow, "It's me." biting the right side of his lower lip.

Ian shrugged, his green eyes narrowing in confusion looking at Mickey, “You want me to change it?”

Mickey laughed lightly, looping his arm under Ian’s elbow “No.” he murmurs, linking their hands together laying his head on Ian’s shoulder “I don’t want you to change it, Ian.”

Ian turns his head and kisses Mickey’s temple, “For a moment there, I thought you’re mad about this.”

Mickey raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing Ian’s knuckles, “No, not mad. Surprised, flattered maybe, but never mad.” He raised his face and kissed Ian’s ear, “You are the sweetest, most adorable person I have ever met.” He hums, slotting his face at the crook of Ian’s neck, “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend.” saying softly.

Ian smooths a hand on Mikey’s cheek “I’m glad too, baby.” he murmurs, leaning down, kissing his nose. 

A loud rumbling sound came out of Mickey’s stomach, his arm jerking out from under Ian’s elbow hurriedly. He looked at Ian, eyes going wide, hand clutching at his belly, “Oh my god.” Mickey pulled himself away from Ian, “Oh my god, my growling stomach just ruined the moment.” 

Ian laughed pulling Mickey back towards him, swinging his arm over his shoulder, “C’mon, starvin' marvin,” his free hand getting one of the plates from the table, “We better eat up. I don’t want my perfectly prepared breakfast getting cold, Mick.” Ian teases.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mickey huffed, getting the remaining plate off the table “Fine. I’ll eat your stinking food.” his face flushing as he swallowed a mouthful of eggs into his mouth. “Fuck, you even cook so damn well. Next time, we’re not going out anymore. You're gonna cook for me, here in my apartment whenever you come over.”

“Aww, you want me to come over again and cook for you, Mick Mick?” Ian nudges him with his elbow.

Mickey pushes his arm away, “Sure Guy Fieri, sure.” his eyebrows rose slightly, mouth still chewing on his food. He smirked then continued, “I have a proposition for you,” Mickey puts his thumb in his lips, eyes blinking slowly at Ian, “With every meal you cook for me, you will get a blow job.”

Ian grinned, his eyes crinkling, “Deal.”

“Deal.” 

  
  


________ 

  
  


October 29, 2016

10:45 PM

  
  
  


**COME AS YOU AREN’T**

**Calling all Monsters and Goblins**

**It’s time for the Kappa Kappa Annual**

**Halloween Masquerade**

**October 29, 2016**

**531 Crescent St., New Hell (it’s definitely not Haven)**

  
  
  
  


Ian checked himself out from the reflection of the window, his eyes gazing at his body with a frown on his face. He was wearing a wild, shoulder length black wig with a red bandana tied around his forehead, a black sleeveless cropped top that showed off a toned arms and a bit of his not so taut stomach. Ian kept on pulling his shirt down to hide his abdomen which actually doesn’t help his problem, since he also has another problem with the zebra printed leotard he is wearing. 

There is a perfect silhouette of his dick and he doesn’t know how to hide it, how to possibly make himself look less like fucking sex with legs. He grimaces as he tries to pull the stretchable pants down then up, pinching the skin tight fabric from the groin area to loosen it up, and not hold on his dick snuggly like a glove. His junk is practically out on display to anybody who would bother to look at his crotch area, which to be honest, seems like everybody was interested to look and stare at his cock. 

Ian wipes the sweat from his nape, these tiny rivulets of water dripping incessantly from his head the moment Olivia went to his apartment, telling him to wear this wild wig and costume so they could come in the party matching, like any normal couple would do. They were meant to be Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson at the time she was still playing a sexy lifeguard in the popular series and him as the promiscuous rock star. Ian had suggested initially to be Frankenstein, since he would like to be as unrecognizable and incognito as possible in a room full of inebriated and possibly drug infused crowd of young people which is really not his thing. But Olivia wanted to, actually insisted that they had to make an appearance and well, coming in as the Bride of Frankenstein just won’t do it for her. She had to come in wearing this red, high-cut, one piece suit, have her gold blonde hair blow dried to perfection, the curly ends of it hanging down low to her chest, her ample breasts barely concealed by her suit. Olivia’s hand was holding this red-orange rescue buoy, swinging it up and down every so often, and saying by doing so, it would complete her total look. _Jessuz._

They had walked hand in hand in the party, Olivia twirling like a ballerina as she stepped foot inside the sorority house, which was decorated like a coven. There are black curtains hanging on all four corners of every room, some fake cobwebs and red fairy lights dangling on the ceiling. Ian sees some bookshelves on the corner of the living room, lined with potion books and vials with dark liquid in it, and some Barbie dolls with tattered clothes and a few limbs missing. 

At the center of the room is a large black cauldron with violet smoke coming out of it. Ian was half expecting the air smelling like earthy and strong, maybe something stinky, like rotten eggs, similar to the smell of hot springs that he and Mickey went to at Shelter Island. But actually, the air smelt like lavender, and for some reason Ian got disappointed with that, because the coven-like, gloomy, scary vibe the party had attempted now smells like a regular sorority house. These preppy girls pretending to look sinister and evil, with the exception of Olivia who just plainly wants to look… slutty. 

As they walk from room to room, the people around them start hooting, clapping at her as she passes them by. She waved her dainty hands at them, blowing air kisses at random folks like she’s some sort of model. Olivia kept on pulling Ian’s hand from one group to the other, introducing him as if he hadn't met them before, like she wanted to remind them they were in fact a couple and are engaged. Ian did his compulsory round with Olivia, nodding and shaking people’s hands, making small talk as if he cared what new dance craze is out at the moment. He had felt like a rag doll, being dragged from one room to the other. And he can’t really control it, don’t really have a say with how much he wasn’t enjoying himself, not one bit. 

When they went back to the living room, where most of the people seemed to be congregating at, Ian saw one of Olivia’s fraternity brothers started acting as if he was choking, like he needed some sort of rescuing. He was waving his hand over at them, eyes wide with both his hands on his throat, body bent down, like he’s gasping for air. The crowd started chanting, egging Olivia to hurry up and save this man dressed as an elf that looked a lot like Legolas. Olivia squared her shoulders and swung the rescue buoy, running slowly, flipping her hair to and fro, like she was being filmed. Ian tries so hard to school his face and not roll his eyes from how ridiculous everything looks. His left eye started to twitch as he watched Olivia dramatically falling down on her knees to her laying friend on the floor, performing a half-assed CPR and a fake mouth to mouth resuscitation. Ian took the opportunity to retreat and go, hurriedly slipping out of the room, his feet moving to the kitchen where the booze and food were at. 

It was as if the kitchen was a separate entity in the house with how surprisingly normal everything looked, except for the large rectangular table at the center of the room. On it were black candles that were propped up in vintagey looking candelabras, a few dark, blood-red roses laying around in a circular pattern, in the middle of it was a skull that had fake spiders coming out from every hole. Scattered on the table are some Halloween trinkets and candies, and two big bowls filled with beer cans and seltzers submerged on iced water. The room was very well lit, with all the curtains drawn to the side, allowing a good view of the people swimming in the pool and lounging about at random areas in the garden. 

Ian turned to the fridge, hoping to find something stronger, something more flammable. He quickly opened the door and saw two bottles of champagne and a Merlot tucked in the chiller. Ian pulled out the bottle of red wine, grabbing a corkscrew from one of the drawers and sprinted out of the house towards the garden. 

There were a lot of people in the pool, mostly half dressed and probably already drunk people that were either sitting by the sides of the pool or swimming playfully with each other. 

A feet away from the pool is a trail of shrubbery leading to the driveway where all the cars were parked. Right at the end of the driveway are a couple of life size statues of witches standing on the side, their black hooded robes draped lowly on their faces, one of their wrinkly hands outstretched holding an apple. Ian decided he could sit beside the statues, make it his hiding place until he could go back to his apartment and just sleep and rest, maybe chat with Mickey, wherever he may be.

He pulls out his phone, which he had tucked discreetly inside his skin tight pants, right on his left hip. His mobile had the traces of his sweat, the gadget warm and slippery on his hands. Ian would’ve had a better time in the party if his friends were here. Hakeem and Eleejah had invited him a day before the masquerade party to go to New York. Hakeem’s model girlfriend saying they could come with her to this celeb Halloween party in the Upper East side, and they were planning on coming in as Ed, Edd and Eddy. The three of them even had to draw sticks as to which will dress up as who. Ian got Edd and was so excited that he already purchased his costume, which is the most fuzz free costume anyone could ever ask for, and he was so happy.

Ian popped the cork off the Merlot and chugged on the wine while he pulled up his Facebook from his phone. The first profile that popped on his screen is Hakeem’s and he had just posted several pictures of him at the party in Manhattan. He was dressed as Eddy, like what they had originally planned and standing beside him is his gorgeous girlfriend wearing the dorkiest costume that he wouldn't expect a model to be wearing. She had on a black rimmed circular glasses and a matching red and white striped beanie and long sleeve shirt over loose dark jeans and a black converse. To Ian, she has never looked more beautiful dressed this way. He snickers, as he scrolled through the pictures, every picture getting crazier and crazier, but he could sense that they were having so much fun. In some photos, he saw Eleejah dancing with her girlfriend Anna, taking shots together looking so happy and carefree. Ian sighed, thinking he would rather be there with them than here, where he’s hiding outside the driveway with a bottle of wine in his hands. 

Before he closes the app, he sees a new post from Olivia. The post said ‘Having a blast with my man. Happy Halloween Freaks!’ and a picture of him and Olivia, their faces close to each other, with smiles on their faces, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips, their gazes only on each other’s eyes. To some it would look like they were in love, like they were the perfect couple. But Ian knows how fake the pose is, Olivia even asking for several retakes of this photo of them from Tracy. 

He takes another huge swig of the wine, the deep ruby colored liquid sliding down his throat. Ian looked at the time in his watch and saw he had been in the party for almost two hours and he gave himself one more hour until he would leave the party. He could probably grab another bottle of wine in the kitchen after finishing this one, since he’s more than half way through with it. Ian decided going back inside the house wouldn’t be a problem, no one would notice him for sure. 

_A ninja._

He should’ve dressed as a ninja instead of this washed up rock star Olivia said would be perfect for him. A ninja would be the coolest costume ever. He would have his sword or nun chucks with him, swinging it at people who would attempt to come close to him. Ian could be stealthy and light on his feet too, coming in and out of the house, without anybody seeing him. 

Yes, he would really like to be invisible yet deadly so he can do whatever he wants and be whoever he wants and maybe even be with anybody he wants but still protect himself and the person he loves. Ian suddenly felt cold for some reason, the heavy wig and spandex pants not offering any warmth for him anymore. He realizes as he takes another gulp of the wine that he didn’t get to bring his coat with him when he decided to go out in the driveway.

Fuck, Ian ponders as he lays on the grass, it would’ve been so cool if he was a ninja. 

  
  


_________

  
  
  


October 31, 2016

6:45 AM

  
  
  


Mickey left Manhattan at the crack of dawn a few minutes ago, had brought a few clothes with him just in case he decided to spend the night. He’d gotten a call last night while he was out with Soph, watching a movie marathon on the lawn at Pier 1 in Brooklyn Bridge Park. 

_There was a marathon of all the Scream movies. The lawn of Pier 1 turned into a sea of people laying on the grass, with their snacks and blankets draped over their prone bodies. They were watching the second screening of the night, Scream 2 when he got the call. Maureen, Jada Pinkett-Smith’s character, was out with her boyfriend, Phil, Omar Epps’ character on a date watching a horror flick. For some reason, some of the people in the theater, including Phil were dressed as the ghost faced villain in the movie, and Maureen was about to be killed in the scene. Sophia was munching on the popcorn, her eyes glued on the projector screen, the grease on her mouth glistening as the light from the screen hits her lips. They had bought the popcorn earlier, together with a couple of Dr.Pepper’s and a Twix bar._

_While both of them were busy watching the film, an incessant ringing started disturbing the air. Mickey at first did not register it as his own ringtone, even crossing his legs, as his relaxed, outstretched body gets comfortable on the blanket they had laid out on the grass. It was going off for a few seconds, the sound competing with the sudden lull in the movie as Maureen was realizing she was going to be killed by the ghost faced character. The couple beside him started shushing at them, telling him to leave and to get his phone now. Mickey looked at them confusedly, putting his hand up, trying to sass them out. But the sound kept on going and he had to turn around and find the source where it’s coming from. Sophia finally took her hand out from the popcorn bucket and reached down into his backpack grabbing his phone and shoving it to him without taking her eyes off from the projector. Mickey’s body jerked away from her greasy hands, taking his phone from her, cursing under his breath and apologized profusely to the couple beside them who was frowning at him as he stood up. He hurriedly ran to the part of the lawn where there were less people to answer the phone._

_The thing is, he had just purchased the phone the other day. Ian suggested that it was a good idea to get one. He had told Mickey that if he got a new phone, he could take pictures better, send them and also download applications from it to use the mobile’s full functionality. Full functionality would mean Mickey downloading Facebook on his phone, taking pictures of himself or whatever, posting it, and Ian writing cute comments on it. Yeah, full functionality._

_Mickey answered the phone without even checking who was calling him._

_“Hello?”_

_“Mickey.”_

_“Who is this?”_

_“It’s Johnson.”_

_Johnson. Mickey’s heart started pounding fast, his breath getting a bit shallow and fast. He never calls him, not unless Ian can’t or….because he’s in danger._

_“Hey, what’s up?” Mickey trying to sound together, calm._

_“Everything’s okay. Let me start with that.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“I already got Ian sleeping in his room.”_

_“Uh kay?” What does he mean sleeping in his room?_

_“I found him sleeping in somebody’s driveway passed out drunk without his coat.”_

_“Alright. I don’t know where this is going, Johnson. What is going on?”_

_“It started snowing last night and Olivia and her friends started freaking out cause they can’t find Ian.”_

_“Where was he? What the hell happened” Mickey started walking fast, with no definite destination. His feet were moving to nowhere and he didn't even care._

_“Okay, Mickey. Calm down.”_

_“What...is Ian okay Johnson? Fuck,” he stopped walking, clutching the phone closer to his ear. “Is he okay?”_

_“I found him just at the right time. It was probably thirty or so degrees last night. He drank a bit at the party, saw a couple of bottles of wine beside him. Ian maybe had passed out in the driveway while he was trying to get to his car.”_

_“Wait, wait..” Mickey ran his left hand through his hair, pressing his phone to shoulder, putting it in between the crook of his neck. He pulled the sleeves of his flannel down his wrists, the hair on his forearms raising, as the air around him suddenly getting colder. “Where is he, is he with you now? Is he in his apartment?”_

_“Yes, he’s with me and also yes, Ian is in his apartment right now. I just told you that, Mickey. Please calm down.”_

_Fuck. “Fuck, alright. If Ian’s fine why are you calling me then?”_

_“He’s asking for you.”_

_Mickey knows when Ian gets like this. He was the same the first week in Yale, Ian texting him, calling him three, four times a day, his inbox filling in full capacity with how many messages he’s been sending him. Ian was also like this, when he just had his prelims, or when Olivia was forcing him to come with her to the Charity Ball for her sorority. Mickey was happy getting those messages, happy to know that Ian was always thinking about him, always wanting to be with him. But as much as he was enjoying this much attention, this much want and need from Ian, Mickey had always thought, they need to learn how to function without each other, need to do things and deal with stuff on their own._

_“You don’t have to come here if you don’t want to, Mick. As I’ve said, he’s already here in his apartment. He’s safe.”_

_“I can’t come tonight, the train’s closing soon.”_

_“I wasn’t expecting you to, Mickey. You can come here whenever you want.”_

_“I’ll come. I want to see him too, Johnson.”_

_“Alright. Do you want me to pick you up at the Amtrak?”_

_“Sure, yeah. I’ll text you when I’m close to Connecticut.”_

_“Okay, Mickey. See you tomorrow.”_

_“Yeah,” Mickey sighs, “See you tomorrow.”_

_“Have a good rest of the night.”_

_“You too, Johnson. And uhm,” Mickey blows air to his cold hands, rubbing them together until he can feel the warmth from his hands spreading to his body, “tell him I’m coming.”_

_“Alright, I will.”_

_“Thank you for calling me. I really appreciate it.”_

_“Okay, Mickey. Good night.”_

  
  


**_CLICK_ **

  
  


He had just passed by Bridgeport, which is probably twenty minutes away from New Haven. Mickey’s leg kept on bouncing, the heels of his feet going up and down. There is a long line of old, early 19th century buildings outside, his eyes began counting them unconsciously as the train passed them by. It took them seven minutes to go through downtown to the rural part of the city, the terrain changing from somewhat modern and city like to quaint and green. Mickey looked on the horizon, with the sun already shining brightly on the vast land of grassy landscape and tall mountains. He’s getting close now, he can feel it.

Mickey pulls his phone from his pockets and checks on the time. Twelve minutes. That’s the distance, the only minutes left between him and Ian. And he starts contemplating if it's time for him to drop Johnson a call, telling him he’s almost to New Haven. But his anxiety kept on growing the closer he got to Ian, and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t even understand why he’s suddenly scared to see Ian. Because from the moment he sets foot inside the train, Mickey had a thought, maybe he has been thinking about it for some time now. He and Ian needed to have a talk, they really needed to talk about some stuff. And maybe he’s not ready, maybe he may never be ready for what he has to say to Ian. 

The terrain changes, the long stretch of green land that his eyes were gazing at a few minutes ago turning more urban, more cosmopolitan. Mickey takes a breath, inhaling a huge amount of air into his lungs, his chest expanding, shoulders raising with exertion. It’s now eight minutes. Eight minutes until he sees Ian. 

_________

  
  
  


Same day

8:12 AM

  
  
  


“Hey sleepyhead, wake up.”

Sunlight was illuminating the big room, bright white rays of light shooting at different corners of bed. Mickey had arrived at Ian’s apartment not too long ago, his to go coffee that he had purchased at the Union Station a few minutes ago sitting on top of the side table still fairly warm. He had opened a bit of the curtains, making sure to let the light in the dark room. It appears Ian intended to make the room as dark as possible, his navy blue heavy drapes completely shut, covering his ceiling to floor windows. 

Mickey had taken off his shoes before coming into Ian's room, his socked feet making light steps as he went inside the bedroom. Johnson had told him he will be doing some shopping for Ian, maybe will be gone for a few hours. Even with the light inside the room, he could barely make out Ian’s body laying on the bed. He had made a cocoon of himself, wrapping the white duvet around his body, completely covering him from head to foot. There is a huge space beside Ian, and Mickey decided to maybe get into that space and lay beside him. He propped his back at the headboard, stretching his legs on the mattress then crossed his ankles. He started watching Ian sleep, his face peeking at the small space from the duvet. Ian looked very relaxed, his lips slightly parted, soft whistling noises escaping his lips. His shoulders rise and fall with his every intake of breaths, Ian’s nose flaring a bit as he exhaled through his nose. 

Mickey places a hand on his covered head, his fingers stroking the soft fabric as he tries to rouse his boyfriend. He leans in, kissing the space between his eyebrows.

“Ian. Hey, wake up.” he whispers, thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks.

“Hmmph.”

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.”

“Nngggghhh…” Ian rolls to the other side, his back now facing Mickey.

Mickey brought his body down, curling himself on Ian’s body. He wrapped his arms around him, actually around this soft, warm, huggable form of a man that seemed to have folded more into himself, low deep groans coming out from this human burrito.

“I-aaannn.” Mickey sing songs.

“Mick, I’m sleeping.” Ian rasply says.

“Hmm, you are? I came all the way here and you want to sleep on me? Here I thought I’d get the whole red carpet welcome.”

“Mick, I’m sick.” 

“You want us to play Nurse-Patient? I can take care of you for old time’s sake?”

Ian turns around, his long freckled arms coming out from the small opening of the cocoon duvet on his head. He started reaching out to him, snaking his hand on his neck, “Mmiiiccckk, I almost died!” he said pouting, eyes still shut tight.

“Well who’s fault is that, stupid? Who told you to sleep outside when it’s snowing just wearing a tank top on?” Mickey nuzzles his face on Ian’s cheek, his hand peeling off the blanket off his head. “You want me to make chicken soup?”

Ian opens his eyes at this, “You know how to cook?”

“Fuck you, of course I know how to cook. I lived alone for two years before I met your hairy ass.”

Ian smiled, lifting his face up, pecking the tip of Mickey's nose. He elbows the duvet off his shoulders, pushing it down his body until his bare upper torso is exposed. 

“You’re gonna cook something for me?”

“Yeah, heard you wanted some TLC.”

He pressed his right shoulder on the bed, putting all his upper body weight on it, scooting down so his face was at the level of Mickey’s chest. He suddenly felt warm all over, a stark contrast to how he was just a few hours ago. 

Ian had only worn his pajama bottoms on after taking a long bath last night, thinking wearing a sweatshirt would be useless if he already has like one, two blankets over his body. He had tucked the thick duvet under his chin then pulled the ends of it close to his body. The cocoon he had made for himself is just the right kind of heat his freezing body needed, even knocking him off almost instantly as his body succumbs to the warmth and safety of his bed. But Mickey is already here, in his bed, with him, his body providing all the warmth that he needs. Ian thought he doesn’t need the artificial heat anymore, having Mickey close to him is enough. 

He scissored his legs until his feet could kick the duvet off his body, his toes pushing the blanket completely off of him, to have his body finally free to move closer to Mickey. Ian slots his ankles on his socked feet, sliding his hands from Mickey’s neck to his waist, snaking it under the hems of his shirt, feeling his warm skin on his palms. He leaned down until he could rest his forehead on his sternum, taking a deep breath, smelling that familiar scent of his boyfriend. He hums, nuzzling his cheek on Mickey’s chest.

“Ian, don’t you dare sleep on me. I need to make you soup.”

“But I'm comfortable, Mick.” Ian sighed, moving his hands up to Mickey’s upper back, pulling his body closer until their bodies are curved perfectly together.

“Ian, I need to buy some stuff for your chicken soup.”

“Call Johnson, he can get them for you.”

“Ian, Johnson is not my employee. I can’t just ask him to do some shopping for me.”

“Want me to call him?”

“No, don’t. I wanna do it. C’mon, Ian.” He reached behind himself, trying to pull Ian’s arms off him, “You have to let go, man.”

“No.” Ian kept his arms around Mickey’s middle, his face settling on his chest. 

“Ian.” He chuckles, “C’mon don’t be a brat.”

Ian breathes slowly, pressing his thumbs on Mickey’s waists, “Fine,” he tilted his head, kissing his chin, “But don’t be too long, ‘kay?” his feet brushing Mickey’s calves.

“Where else would I go, idiot? I’ll just be going to the store, Ian.” He places a hand on Ian’s chest, pushes himself away from him. Mickey turns his body, scooting off the bed, “just go back to bed. I’ll wake you up when I’m done with your soup.” 

Mickey stands up and reaches for the duvet which is smooshed at the foot of the bed. He drapes it over Ian who was now laying on his back, his arms under his head, 

“The closest store is about ten minutes away from here,” He says, “Once you get out of the building, turn right. It’s at the corner of Crescent road.” 

Mickey grabs his not so warm coffee from the side table and took a huge gulp. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Yeah, got it.” walking to his backpack, getting his wallet from the front pocket. “Be back in a few.” He says, looking back at Ian.

Ian pouted at him, his other hand now splayed on his stomach. “I can’t believe you’re here, Mickey. Thank you.”

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow, “I was told somebody requested my presence. So..” Mickey walks back to the bed, placing a hand at the side of Ian’s head then bent down. He continues, “here I am. As if I had any other choice.” Mickey says, smirking, “Go back to bed,” he pecks Ian on the lips, “Be back soon.” 

“ ‘kay. I’m expecting good soup later.”

“You wish. I’ll make it as edible as possible. Go back to sleep, babe. I won’t be long, I promise.” Mickey’s hand cupping Ian’s jaw, kissing him deeply.

Ian sighs into the kiss, his face relaxing as Mickey pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of his lips. A faint blush creeps on his face, coloring the apples of his cheeks. “I’m not gonna sleep. I’ll wait for you.”

“Alright.” Mickey pats his chest then walks towards the door, grabbing his shoes. He turned around as his hand was about to turn the knob clockwise and said, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth. Your breath stinks.” 

“Fuck you.” Ian throws one of the pillows at Mickey’s retreating body, “You stink!”

He almost had him, Mickey barely getting out of the bedroom when Ian threw the pillow at him. He puts on his black converse chuckling, making sure to tie the laces tightly. Mickey mentally recalls the chicken soup recipe Miss T always makes for him when he’s feeling off. He grabs a piece of neon green post-it on the fridge and a pencil, writing the ingredients hurriedly but still legibly as he can.

There’s probably a total of six things that he needs to buy from the store. Mickey just hopes he’ll find everything in it or else, he’ll just have to wing it and pray to God his soup will be at least sort of palatable, even edible. He walks out of the apartment, double checking if the door is locked before walking the hallway, walking down the stairs, walking out of the building, walking to the sidewalk, turning right towards the end of Crescent road. 

  
  
  


“Yeah, I already have the vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, Nutella and walnuts, Trace. Is there something else I'm missing?” Olivia stands in line to the only cashier open in the store. Her phone smooshed in the crook of her neck. “What? Tampons? God, Tracy, can’t you find one in the communal bathroom? Oh my god, fine. I’ll get you a box, you psycho!”

Olivia turns her head to the girl beside her, “Hi.” She flips her long blonde hair on the side, giving her a huge smile, “I need you to hold the line for me for just one second.”

The girl grimaced, not looking impressed. “Why?” she asks.

“I forgot this thingy for my friend. I’ll just get it really quick and be back in a jiffy.”

“A jiffy.” she crosses her arms over her chest. “You can just go back at the end of the line once you get that ‘thingy’,” the girl made air quotes “for your friend.”

“Listen,”

“No you listen, princess. I just came out from my dorm doing an all-nighter for my dissertation. I am very tired and cranky.” she slowly says, “And you really...don’t want to piss me off, blondie.”

“Excuse me?” Olivia exclaims.

“I know it is a great discomfort for you to get back in line after you got your ‘thingy’, and would rather ask an assuming person, which is obviously not me, to bend over backwards for you so you can get your what you want.” she steps closer to Olivia, her face a few inches from her. “So with that, no. I am sorry, blondie, but I am not gonna hold the line for you and have these poor people behind me wait until you get those tampons that your friend needs. Did you get all of that or do you want me to say it again for you, sweetheart?”

“I’m…” Olivia was breathing hard, her nose flaring, “Ggaahhhh!.” She walks away from the angry girl exasperatedly, her feet stomping out from the line as she goes back to aisle 4 where all the hygiene products are. She could hear the other people in the line snickering and high fiving the rude girl. 

_How dare her?_

It’s not as if it’s her fault that she had to go back and get tampons. Tracy should’ve told her that beforehand that she needed them. Olivia already had her list of stuff to buy, even writing them last night to make sure she had everything listed. But Tracy had to stop her as she went out of the sorority house, shouting at her the things she wanted her to buy for her. Olivia wrote them down with her own list, putting a big circle around the added items. 

She was walking towards aisle 4 when he suddenly noticed a familiar guy on aisle 3, checking on the canned chicken broths. Olivia stops and turns to the aisle, pretending to look at the canned peas, but is actually discreetly looking at the guy from her periphery. She grabs a can of peas and walks towards where the guy was standing. But as soon as she is about a couple of steps away from him, he turns around and goes to the other direction, probably going to the meat section, which is perpendicular to the aisle where they’re at. She hears him ask for half a pound of chicken breast and if the store has couscous. The male store clerk says he could find it at aisle 6 beside the vegetable section, then handing him the half pound of chicken breast with a wink. Olivia notices the guy blushing, the back of his neck turning pink. He turns his head to her, his eyes casted to his feet. Even with his face slightly tilted down, Olivia can see his face perfectly. Her recollection of who this guy is hits her like a freight train. 

_Shit. It’s him._

Olivia puts her hand inside her Prada purse and grabs her phone. She pulls it up, making sure the screen has the image of the guy she was secretly creeping up on. Olivia hit the button, a soft clicking sound coming out from her phone. She checked at the captured image and smiled. 

_Ian, you stupid, stupid boy._

  
  
  


Ian came out of the shower inhaling deeply through his nose. He got a waft of something homey, soothing, delicious smell that made his mouth water. He was trying to decipher the scents, he could detect the strong smell of onions, garlic and ginger. There are other spices in the air, he guesses that it may be rosemary, thyme and… _is that turmeric?_ His stomach started rumbling, his hand automatically clutching the soft mound of his belly. 

Mickey had just put on the couscous in the boiling broth when Ian decided to come out of his bedroom, his bare feet making quick and light steps as he bee lined to the Keurig machine and made himself a cup of coffee. It seemed that he had just taken a shower, his hair still damp and somehow flat. He was humming when he went to the fridge and got the liquid creamer out, stirring his coffee as he poured the white liquid into it. Ian was wearing a plain white shirt, one side of it bunged up on the elastic waistband of his grey jogger pants, its hems cuffed up to his calves.

Mickey added the cuts of chicken in the broth then covered it with the lid when his eyes darted at Ian. He was leaning at the edge of the kitchen counter drinking his coffee, looking at Mickey with a smile on his face.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

“You know Mickey,” Ian said, pushing himself off the counter and took three steps, getting into his space, “I think I owe you an apology.”

“Huh?” He turns around, wiping his hands with a dish towel, swinging it over his right shoulder.

Ian steps closer, gripping his hip, his thumbs rubbing circles on his hip bone. “I will never question you for not knowing how to cook. The soup smells amazing.” he placed a kiss at the corner of his lips. 

“You don’t even know what this tastes like, Ian.” He pushes a hand to his face, “Go make yourself useful and get a couple of bowls and a glass of water for me.”

Ian grinned, squeezing his hips then walked back to the fridge peering inside of it “I got uhm... OJ and well, milk.” he tilted his face at him, “Care to change it from water to good ol’ orange juice, babe?”

“Yeah,” Mickey smirked, “I’ll have a glass of orange juice, firecrotch.” 

He grabbed two huge wide brimmed bowls from the cupboard and a glass placing them on the breakfast nook which is at the left side of the oven. Ian sets the bowls side by side, placing Mickey’s glass of orange juice and his cup of coffee with them. 

Mickey took off the lid of the pot, a cloud of hot smoke coming out from it. The steam hits his face, the aroma invading his nose head on. He blew air to the mouth of the pot, poking his fork at the chicken, checking if the meat is already cooked. 

“Fuck, that really smells good, Mickey.” Ian exclaimed as he sat on the chair of the nook, his legs swinging excitedly as he waited for Mickey to finally serve the soup, “Can’t wait to taste it.”

“Okay,” Mickey said slowly, taking the ladle in his hand, “I think it’s ready. Uhm, yeah. Can you give me the bowls, please.”

Ian stretched his arms out to Mickey, handing him the empty bowls. He places two ladle full of the soup on each bowl, dropping a few pieces of fried, chopped garlic on top of it. Mickey walked around the nook, his hand brushing Ian’s shoulder as he placed the bowls on the table.

“Okay,” he sits beside Ian, “this is like my first time making this. If you don’t like it, tell me. I don’t need you to patronize me and tell me it tastes good when in fact it's not.”

“Aww, even if this tastes like feet, I’ll still eat all of it, Mick.” Ian putting a hand on top of his thighs. “I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing, babe. Stop worrying about it.” He kissed his hair. “C’mon,” Ian grabbed his spoon, scooping through the soup, making sure he got a bit of the celery, carrots, chicken and couscous in one go. “I wanna taste this chicken soup my boyfriend made for me.”

Mickey sighs, shaking his head “I’ve never been so nervous for somebody to taste something I cooked. Maybe three out of the five times I’ve attempted something, Soph would always say, with her stoic face, that monotone voice of hers, ‘yeah, good enough, but it can be better’, like I’m auditioning for some Michelin chef.”

“Okay Mick,” He puts the spoon in his mouth, an explosion of flavors hitting his tongue, “Jesus, fuck. Mickey.” He looks at his boyfriend wide eyed, “This is incredible.” Ian gets another scoopful of the soup and puts it in his mouth. “You know what, I think when I get to meet Sophia, I will need to say a word or two to her.”

“You really liked it?”

“Go have a taste, babe. Cause damn, just saying this tastes good is an understatement.”

Mickey takes his spoon and dips it on his bowl, taking a big spoonful of the soup. He brings the spoon to his mouth, tasting what he had done the first time. He smiles as he swallows the soup, the thick broth sliding easily down his throat. “Okay, alright. This chicken soup really does taste good. It’s close enough to what Mrs. T used to bring me at work.”

“I told you,” Ian hooks his foot on Mickey’s ankles, “this is amazing. You’re amazing.” 

He holds Ian’s hand which is resting on top of his thigh, his thumb brushing the back of his hand. He said slowly, “Thank you, Ian. You’re amazing too.”

Ian arches an eyebrow “Yeah?” 

Mickey looks down, getting another spoonful of the chicken soup. He takes a bite of the soup, his mouth opening then closing, his gaze going back to Ian, “Yeah, definitely.”

  
  


They sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the soup, the clinking sounds of their spoon on the ceramic bowls, the only sound in the kitchen. Ian made them another serving, Mickey grinning happily at his boyfriend as he hums walking back to the oven. He plops down on the chair beside him, carefully placing the bowls in front of them. 

He nudged an elbow at Mickey’s arm, “You’ll be staying over, right?”

“Yeah.” Mickey shrugs, “Yeah, I was planning to,” their feet playing footsies under the table, “I’ll probably just leave early tomorrow morning.”

“I could ask Johnson to drive you.”

“Ian.” Mickey making a face.

“I mean, that’s part of his job aside from being my bodyguard, Mickey.”

“No, I would rather ride the train.” grabbing the now empty bowls, bringing it to the sink so he can wash them. He opens the tap, warm water soaking the bowls, “Besides, I could get some sleep all the way back to Manhattan.”

Ian stands up, following Mickey, his hand grabbing the sponge and pours a dollop of dishwashing liquid, “I could… go back to Manhattan with you.”

“Why, don’t you have a class tomorrow?”

“I could skip it, the whole university is doing this pep rally for the football and ice hockey teams. Not really in the mood to come, since Hakeem and Eleejah are still in New York. Oh wait,” Ian puts his wet hand on Mickey’s forearm, trying to get him to look back at him, “Shit, you could finally meet them.”

“Ian, I mean…”

“They know you, we’ve talked about you.” he said excitedly.

“Ian.” Mickey sighs loudly.

“Mick, they would love to meet you. I mean.. well. They don’t really know about… us.” Ian says slowly, his mind finally keeping up with his mouth, “I mean, they're my friends and maybe it’ll be different...”

Mickey shrugs, flipping the bowls to get rid of the extra water, putting them on the dish dryer. He grabbed the spoons then started washing them. “I don’t know Ian. I mean we have to keep things, uhm… discreet. We don’t want to make any mistakes and have your parents know,” he tore his eyes away from the sink, then looked back at Ian, “or anybody else to know about us. Me coming here is already a huge gamble, Ian.” he licked his lips then continued, “I’m sure they’re nice people, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Mickey swallowing hard.

“Mick, I don’t want to…” Ian puts his hands on the sink, his head hanging low, “I don’t want to hide you,” he trailed off, his head turning at Mickey, “us.” he says almost in a whisper.

Mickey swallowed with little saliva he had in his mouth, “but we have to, Ian” his voice cracks, “we really have no choice.”

Ian didn’t move, his limbs and body felt heavy and numb. The water from the faucet kept on going, Mickey’s hand remained underwater as he held the sponge and spoons. Ian watches the water splash on the walls of the sink, bouncing off the metal surface to Mickey’s forearms. He finally was able to move his limbs, his hand automatically holding Mickey’s hand, getting the already clean utensil out of his hold, putting them on the dish dryer. He closed the tap, grabbing one of Mickey’s hands, which hung listlessly on his sides. 

Ian frowns, shaking his head “I’m sorry that you have to hide from people just to be with me.” 

Mickey remained silent, his eyes firmly staring at their joined hands.

Ian’s brow furrowed, pulling Mickey closer to him. “I know it’s no joke being with me.” he said softly, squeezing his hands.

Mickey took one step toward Ian, his head falling forward on Ian’s chest. 

“Shit,” Mickey said, turning his face, looking back up at Ian’s face. “I’m sorry.” he places their tangled hands at Ian’s lower back. “I came here to cheer you up and look where we are right now.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought up you meeting Hakeem and Eleejah.”

“It’s really not anybody’s fault. I mean,” Mickey felt silent for a beat, then huffed a laugh, “It’s actually sweet of you that you talk about me to them, like I’m somebody important.”

Ian entangles his right hand, his left hand holding both of Mickey’s hand on his back. He places his hand at the back of Mickey’s neck, his thumb rubbing his jaw. “You are important.” Ian says softly, “You’re important to me, Mick.”

Mickey shut his eyes shut, his head tilting up, mouth pursing. Ian leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Mickey fluttered his eyes open, pulling his head back. “I think I need a nap. I feel tired all of a sudden.”

“Alright, let’s go back inside.” He places his hand on Mickey's shoulders, turning him around, guiding him to his bedroom. “It’s not everyday that I have my boyfriend here in my apartment.” 

Ian stepped in front of Mickey, wounding his right hand on his left wrist, Mickey following him like a shadow. 

The room still smells of soap and that sweet, fruity strawberry scented shampoo that Ian seemed to be also using right now. Mickey smiled to himself, he felt a tingling feeling from the tips of his hand, which Ian is still holding as they walked towards the bed spreading to his arms and chest. 

He shuffled his feet faster, so he could walk beside Ian. Mickey looked at Ian’s bed, which appears to still be undone. 

“And so it appears we're back inside the bedroom.” Ian nodded.

“Yeah, I believe so, yes.”

“So, you clearly intended to sleep on my bed, huh?”

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

“Right. So maybe I should leave you here to rest, huh?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re not gonna even invite me to sleep with you, huh?”

“Well, you just woke up Ian.”

“But I can always just lay down with you while you take a nap, right?”

“Well, this bed is your bed, Ian. And this is your room.”

“So I can stay?”

“Ian, I’m not gonna stop you with what you want to do.”

“Okay, only for the sake of merely laying down with you, in my actual bed, inside my room, in my apartment. Then yes, I will stay here and lay with you.”

Mickey snorted, “Like you haven’t been thinking about laying with me in your bed.” rolling his eyes.

“C’mon, Milkovich.” Ian said, sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling Mickey in between his parted thighs. “Take your nap, I promise I won’t make a sound.”

“Sure, sure.” Mickey pushed on Ian’s chest, his body swaying backwards, his back hitting the bed with a soft thud. “Seriously,” he places his bent knees on the V of Ian’s legs, then looms on top of his prone body. “just sleep. I’m really tired, Ian.” 

“Uh huh.” Ian grabbed his hips, rolling Mickey on his back. “Just sleep. Noted.” 

  
  
  


They woke up late in the afternoon with Mickey’s arm wrapped around Ian’s waist. He felt tiny breaths at the back of his neck, Mickey’s lips lightly brushing at the bottom of his nape. Ian basked on the warmth coming from his boyfriend’s body for a few minutes, his fingertips stroking the hands on his stomach gently. He nuzzles his head back at Mickey, the hand around Ian’s waist twitching as it instinctively grips his body tighter, curling their bodies closer.

“Hhmmm..”

“You up?” Ian whispers.

He waited for Mickey to reply, counting ten, fifteen seconds until he could feel Mickey’s body stirring, his hand sliding up to his chest. He dipped his head to the curve of Ian’s neck and kisses his ear

“Hey.” he rasps, his voice low and gruff.

Ian hums, pulling Mickey’s hand to his lips, “Got a good sleep?”

“Hmm.”

“You were snoring.”

“I am not.” Mickey grumbles.

“Yeah you do, but not loud, like a motorboat, but snore like a puppy who just had a day at the park.”

“Fuck, what time is it?”

“I’m guessing six, six thirty.”

“Is Johnson back?”

“Nah, I told him he could have the day off. He went back to Harlem a few hours ago. We got the apartment all by ourselves.”

Mickey bends his knees, digging his foot in between Ian’s legs. He pulls his body closer, Ian’s ass resting on his groin. 

“You want to grab something to eat somewhere?”

“No, we can order in.”

“Hhmmm, alright. Chinese?”

“I like that. I want some dumplings.” 

“Okay.” Mickey let out a long breath through his slightly parted lips, his body totally relaxing. 

“Hey, Mick.”

“Mmm?” His body jolted, the hand on Ian’s chest tightening.

“What do you want?”

“I like Chow Mien.”

“Okay, I’ll order fried rice too, and some ribs.”

“ ‘kay.”

“Hey, Mick.”

“Yeah?”

Ian rolls on the other side, shuffling his body low, until his face is at Mickey’s level. He moves his head closer, their nose bumping as Ian presses their foreheads together “I like having you here.”

Mickey slowly opens his eyes at this, mouth quirking to the side. He brings his hand to Ian’s face, cupping his jaw “Yeah, I like being here too.”

  
  
  


They spend the night, laying on Ian’s big L-type couch, both of them laying lengthwise on the big sofa, their backs propped up on several pillows, telling each other what had transpired in each other’s lives in the past few days while eating their Chinese food. Ian stealing Mickey’s Spicy Wonton from the take out box with every chance he gets. 

A few days ago, Mickey found out that he was chosen by Professor O’Brien to attend a seminar with other select students in different public colleges to go to the Center of Architectural Design and Technology. He told Ian that it's a big opportunity for him to observe and listen to the mentors’ talks. Maybe even giving Mickey some sort of perspective of what discipline he’ll pursue later. Ian then tells him that he got qualified, together with Hakeem to join a criterium in the New Haven Division, both their times ranking in the top fifteen during the preliminary round. 

“What about your grades, everything fine?”

“Yeah, got a couple of A’s and the rest are B’s.”

“Hey, that’s good Ian. Congratulations.”

“How about you, don’t tell me you got straight A”s?”

Mickey shrugs, taking a mouthful of the noodles from the box, chewing on the soft food with a lot of gusto before responding. He wipes his mouth with a piece of napkin, then cleared his throat “I got one B, there rest uhm,” Mickey swallows the food, “A’s”

Ian boops his nose with the tip of his chopsticks, “So smart.”

“Hey.” Mickey cried out, face jerking away as Ian tried to touch his nose again with his oily chopsticks. “You’re so gross.”

They were still sitting upright, Mickey holding Ian’s wrist, trying to stop him from poking him with his chopsticks at random parts of his body. He shuffled to a better position, unbending his knees and started kicking Ian’s shin. Ian yelped, the box of dumpling toppling over, spilling on his lap, his jogger pants absorbing the oil from the rolled up food. 

Ian laughed, spewing fried rice and spit out of his mouth onto his shirt. “Oh shit.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mickey stop.”

Mickey started howling as Ian hooks his finger under his armpit, the take out container with the Chow Mein rolling off his thighs down to the floor. Ian pinned Mickey down on the couch, his whole body framing Mickey’s body, his inner thigh resting on his knees.

“You done?”

Mickey tried to wiggle away from his hold, but finding that his position being beneath Ian is at a disadvantage. He gave up trying to escape Ian’s hold and just lay on the couch submissively. 

“You done?”

“Yeah, I’m done.”

Ian pushed himself off Mickey’s body then pulled him upright. They looked around them as the scattered food littering around them, soiling the cushion of the couch, they’re clothes having spots of spilled food on them.

“Oh my good, we’re a mess.” Mickey looked at the state of their clothes, eyes raking on his shirt then to Ian’s white shirt, mouth agape. “Shit, look at us.”

“They’re just clothes, Mick. We can always take a shower then change clothes, duh?”

“But the stains… the smell… your couch…the food!” Mickey frowns, scooting off the sofa. Some noodles on his pants drips down, falling onto the floor in slow motion.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll call the cleaning lady to come by tomorrow morning. C’mon Mickey, let’s get cleaned up.” Ian standing in front of him, hands outstretched to Mickey.

“Shit, I feel like I wanna clean it up a bit, maybe get the noodles off the floor.”

“Mick, c’mon. Let’s clean up first, then we can go back then fix this up later.” He raised an eyebrow at Mickey, shaking his hand to him, urging him to take it. “I have the gloves, mop and whatever cleaning supplies you might need in the kitchen. We can get them later once we’ve cleaned up.”

Mickey hunched forward, taking Ian’s hand. “Shit, I’m getting a headache looking at all these mess.”

“I know,” Ian chuckles, stepping over the flat cushion to Mickey’s side. “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out with the food we’ve wasted.”

“I am freaking out...internally.” Mickey snapped at him, eyes wide as he stared back at Ian.

“I’m sorry baby.” Ian pulled him into his arms, “I know how you feel with food. I’m sorry.” 

He sighs, “This is not okay, Ian.” His head shaking on Ian’s chest, “This. Is. Not. Okay.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

Ian rubs Mickey’s back. They’re breathing in unison, chests bumping with every intake and exhale of breaths. “Ready to take a shower now?”

Mikey stepped out from their hug, “I can’t believe we wasted such good Chow Mein.”

“Good Chow Mein, you silly boy. We’ll order one again after we take our bath okay?”

“No, I would rather have pizza.”

“Again?” Ian snorted.

“Yes, pizza. Again.” Mickey retorts back smiling.

  
  


The first trip back to Manhattan was at four thirty eight in the morning, the sky still deeply dark, with only hints of sparkling stars that had filled the sky just a few hours ago. Mickey and Ian barely making it to Union Station, jumping out of the cab, running onto the street, hand in hand with just a couple minutes to spare. It was Mickey who woke up early, his body clock still somewhat wired to this routine from his former job. 

They had worn coats going out that morning, Ian telling Mickey to borrow one of his heavier coats since the temperature dropped to the mid 40s. He had put the coat on him, his hands smoothing over his wool jacket after buttoning him up, one by one. Ian can barely take his hands and eyes off Mickey that morning, thinking that he just had to savor him being here with him just a little bit more.

Mickey and Ian were lying face to face after having taken a shower together a few minutes ago. They had taken the huge space of Ian’s bathroom to its full advantage, giving each other blowjobs in the tub, Mickey barely standing on the tiled walls as Ian takes him in his mouth and on the sink, while Ian was brushing his teeth, Mickey kneeling in front of him, head bobbing, his pink, plump lips wrapped around his cock. 

Ian had not expected Mickey to suggest it, saying that they had to make some changes in their relationship to make it work better.

_Better. But aren't they already doing better, even at their best right now?_

_“Are you mad at me?”_

_“Why?”_

_“Cause I wanted us to concentrate more on school, to possibly make connections with other people, like make friends outside… this. Outside us?”_

_“I already have friends. You’re my friend,” Ian flattens his hand on Mickey's back, pulling him closer to him, their bare chests bumping, “You’re my actual best friend, Mickey.”_

_“I know, I am too… with you.” Mickey furrows his eyebrows, he doesn’t know how to properly say what he has on his mind. “I’m not saying you are not enough for me, Ian. Cause you are enough, what I have with you is totally enough.” he wiggled his body closer, so much closer still to Ian, their noses almost brushing. “But sometimes, we have to do stuff alone, like maybe do some stuff with your friends that can help you grow, as a person, like,” he raises his hands from Ian’s chest to his neck, cupping his jaw, “maybe not see each other so much. Like instead of making trips to and from Manhattan to New Haven, or whatever, we can just text or call each other?” Mickey bites his lip, “I love you, Ian. But I want you to be your own person and not, uhm...for us to not depend on each other so much.”_

_“Are you... breaking up with me?” Ian says, his eyes sullen, a slight moisture building up on his lids, making his green eyes glimmer._

_Mickey shakes his head minutely with the little space he could muster, “No, I didn’t say that. That’s not what I’m saying, Ian.” He kisses his lids, a drop of tear sliding on his cheek. “Don’t cry, baby.” Mickey kisses Ian’s face at random places, his arms enveloping his shoulders._

_Ian hides his face at the crook of Mickey’s neck, a small sob escaping his lips._

_“Please don’t break up with me, Mickey.”_

_“I’m not,” Mickey runs his fingers through his hair, his blunt nails soothingly scratching his scalp. “Ian, I’m not.”_

_“Then what are you saying?”_

_“I don’t know. Fuck, Ian please don’t cry. We’re not breaking up.”_

_“Please, Mickey. I can’t..” Ian hiccups, his body shaking as a new wave of sadness and loneliness washes over him._

_“No, Ian. We’re not. I just want us to possibly, shit…” Mickey holds Ian tighter, his right leg hooking on his hip, his other leg slotting in between Ian’s thighs. “Forget it. Forget everything I just said.” He rubs his hand on his back, making gentle motions trying to comfort his obviously distraught boyfriend. “Sshhh, Ian. It’s okay. We’re okay.”_

_Ian is still sobbing, body shaking as tear after tear runs down his cheeks onto Mickey’s neck. The droplets of moisture sliding on his back, down to his sheets, making it damp and wet. “I love you, Mickey.” he sniffled, but sobbing again immediately, both his arms wrapping at Mickey’s body like a vice, his breathing labored and uneven. “Please, I love you.”_

_Mickey pulls Ian’s head off his neck and sees the crestfallen state of his face. He had his eyes shut tight, tears still escaping the slits of his eyes. He brushes the tears away, his thumb swiftly pushing the dampness away from his cheeks as he kisses his lips softly, gently, as delicately as he can. Mickey whispers his ‘I love yous’ with every touch of his lips, making Ian know how he felt for him, how much he cares for him._

_This is not the right time for them to have this talk, Mickey thought. Not when Ian seemed to need him more, when Ian is this vulnerable. He lets Ian make love to him that night, their moans and passionate sighs, the sounds of their bodies moving the only noise heard in the room. They could barely take their hands off each other, their sweat and spit mixing together as their bodies undulated to a silent music, limbs sliding on and off each other’s body like they were dancing. Ian entered him, over and over with so much emotion and intensity, they almost had their release together in unison. Mickey cried out Ian’s name as he spilled between their bodies, his cum spurting on his stomach. Ian following suit after only one thrust inside of him. They lay spent after that, sleeping face to face, with their arms still wrapped around each other._

  
  


Mickey places a hand on Ian’s thigh as he sleeps on his shoulder, a soft snore coming out from his parted lips. They are on their way to the next stop, the S train at the Grand Terminal which arrives at seven, which is only but a few minutes from now. Ian looked out into the window, seeing the sun had risen, shining brightly on the horizon. He sees the trees and mountain, bathing on the orangey yellow glow of the sun. Ian’s body jumped a bit when he felt a loud ping coming out from his pockets. He raises his left hand to Mickey’s head, making sure he was not roused with the sudden movement. He pulled his phone out, his hand pushing on the green button to see the message.

Ian gulped loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked on the screen of his Blackberry. It was a text message from Olivia, and the message had an attachment with it. Ian inhaled deeply, his chest expanding and deflating as he exhales slowly through his nose. 

The attachment jolted him, his mind panicking with the photo sent together with the message. It was a picture of Mickey in the grocery store, his face in full display as he walked to one of the aisles getting the stuff he needed to make him chicken soup. He was smiling, totally unaware that he was being watched. A chill ran down Ian’s spine, the hairs on his arms standing up. 

Two words. Olivia had sent him only two words together with the photo. 

  
_I know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhmmmm, so that happened. did i do it right? it's my first time writing that scene with the tongue and all tbh. eeep!  
> ***the chicken soup recipe, according to google is the best chicken soup out there atm. haven't tasted it nor seen it, but the couscous in it looks very interesting. wonder how it tastes like?  
> ***everybody okay, safe and healthy? sorry for the cliffhanger ending. i really wanted to put that particular scene in. gotta bring in the suspense, innit?  
> ***i have several scenarios for the last part of the chapter and decided on that one. i genuinely hope it worked.  
> ***shout out to my rockstar beta, pam. fugk, she really stayed up late to edit my chapter, had to change the ending you see, coz my anxiety filled brain just doesn't want to settle for sth i'm not happy about. and my shamey gc girls who's forever supportive of me... hhheeeeyyyyyy!!!!  
> ***please stay safe people, wear your masks and if you're from the USA and is able to vote...please, please vote blue.  
> ***lots of love to y'all, thanks for reading.


	22. The Way You Hold Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what is a photograph? it is an image created by light falling on a photographic film or an electronic image sensor. most photographs are created using a camera, which uses a lens to focus the scene's visible wavelengths of light into a reproduction of what the human eye would see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how can one unsee a picture of the person he loves that has caused him this feeling that he had never felt before which in turn hurt the man he loves?

December 21, 2016

2:10 PM

  
  


“Will you stop that?”

“What?”

“Stop doing that with your foot.” Sophia glares at him, “You’re making me anxious.”

He puts a hand on his left thigh, halting the tapping of his foot on the floor. Mickey looked briefly at the circular analog clock on the wall at the front of the room and realized they only have twenty eight minutes until they’re done with their midterms. He pressed the top of his pen then released it, pressed it again, then released it. His left foot started bouncing again unconsciously.

_Clickety click, clickety click._

_Tap tap tap, tap tap tap._

“Fucking quit it, Mick.” Sophia hissed. A few of the students turned around and shushed them.

“Sorry.” He whispered then turned his gaze back at his blue book. 

There’s only one problem left, the other seven algebraic equations he had already written semi legibly on the booklet, practically breezed through them without even breaking a sweat. Professor O’Brien had told them there’s going to be a bonus question at the end of the questionnaire, saying that they’re not exactly required to do it, not unless some of them wanted extra credit or maybe needed that additional point to pass midterms. _Tragic._

Mickey wanted to do it, actually he had already figured out the answer the moment he finished reading the question. It’s not that he needed the extra point, actually he was told by the TA that even if he didn’t ace the midterms, he would probably still be exempted to take the finals. It’s more that, by him doing the bonus question, it would definitely distract him from thinking why Ian hasn’t called or texted him regarding their plans in the next coming days. 

_Five days._

It had been five days since him and Ian last talked and whenever they do, it’s always been hurried and brief. The only time they did have a reasonably ‘long’ chat was when Mickey posted a picture on Facebook of him with Sophia, Sean, Bill, Alice, Troy, Brian and Marge out in a bar having some drinks. 

_Mickey stopped talking when he felt his phone vibrating from his pocket. Him and Troy were in some heated discussion on how he had missed the signs of Lance Bass being gay. Sophia was reading the article from People Magazine, her voice getting louder and louder as Mickey said over her that it is in fact JC who is gay and not Lance. Troy’s hands were flailing in front of him, telling him how full of shit he was and he was just upset because his gaydar wasn't working. Mickey was about to go on a rampage about the way JC for sure manscapes and he was certain wears make-up at times when he startled, his body practically jumping off the stool when he felt his phone vibrating from his front pocket, pulling it out to check who was calling._

_“It’s Ian.” He announces to the group. “I’ll..”_

_“Yeah, we know.” Brian smiles at him, his hand holding the almost empty bottle of beer. “Go say hi to him for me, okay.”_

_Mickey nodded then grabbed his coat and put it on him while maneuvering his way towards the door. He went out of the pub, his feet shuffling, almost running out the door to the very chilly, snow laden sidewalk._

_“Hey.” He breathlessly says, his hand pulling his coat closer to his body._

_“”Are you out?”_

_“Huh?_ ” _There’s a white smog coming out from his mouth. “What did you say?” putting his phone in between his neck and shoulder. “Ian?”_

_“I saw your picture on Facebook. It looks like you’re out.”_

_Mickey puts both his hands inside his coat pockets, his fingers curling into fists. Shit, why the heck did he forget to bring his gloves?_

_“Yeah.” he quickly replies to Ian, “Yeah I’m out with Bri.”_

_“Just Brian?”_

_Mickey shivered, furrowing his eyebrows, slouching within himself in the confines of his coat. He pulled his shoulders up, cradling his phone on the nook of his neck “Ian, I’m outside on the street, freezing my ass off. What do you really want to know?”_

_“I saw your pictures...on Facebook.” Ian said sighing, his voice soft and low._

_“And?” Mickey sniffled._

_“You were with other people.”_

_“They’re called friends, Ian.” He huffed, walking towards the front of the pub, “You know all of my friends, man.”_

_“I know them through photos but have not actually met them.”_

_“And it is my fault?” Mickey pulls out his almost empty pack of smokes. Fuck._

_“Mickey.”_

_“Ian, where is this conversation going? Did you seriously just call me to ask who I’m with tonight?” He placed a cigarette in between his lips and flicked his cheap plastic lighter igniting a small yellow flame._

_“Who’s the guy beside you, the blonde with the pretty eyes?”_

_Jessuz. “Ian.” He said simply, inhaling smoke in his lungs._

_They had taken several photos tonight, most of them were of the whole group crammed together in their small circular table, bodies compressed, making faces in front of the camera, just having fun. If Troy was ever beside him in some of those, he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t even care cause they were friends, are friends, who hang out once in a while._

_Mickey blew smoke through his nostrils, “The blonde guy is Troy. I’ve told you about him before Ian.”_

  
  


_A few minutes ago, Ian had received a notification of a new post from Mickey, the soft pinging sound from his Blackberry halting his hand from opening his car door._

_He had just come from his study group with Eleejah and Anna, spending four hours reading five chapters, outlining, and taking notes from his Theology of Religions book and from this additional journal reference from JBTS. Eleejah said she had the course when she was a freshman and the readings were helpful to her, especially the chapter about black religious practices._

_She is in her third year at Yale together with Hakeem who were transferees from Virginia Tech a year ago. They are both planning on going into law school after graduating, Hakeem possibly getting into Entertainment law, while Eleejah in Corporate law. Both have been very helpful to Ian as to which direction he should probably go, giving him pointers with what electives would be useful to him if he would like to get into law or politics or to whatever his father would want him to do later on, which is to become the next CEO of a company. To put it more bluntly, be the next Chairman of The Gallagher Group of Companies._

_It was never Ian’s intention to go into business, or be a certified accountant someday. If only he could make his own definitive decision as to what he really wanted to do in his life, he would rather be involved in urban development, build an environment that is safe, efficient and sustainable in a community, maybe do it in the suburbs or rural areas even. But there was never a choice for Ian, with who he wants to be, be with the people he wants to really be associated with. Ian knew, even before he set foot in the university, that being a freshman at Yale, as an economics major, his whole life was already laid out for him, quite perfectly and conveniently by his father and his untarnished last name._

_Ian pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, pressed the green button, bringing the screen to life. With his free hand, he clicked his car door open, finally getting inside to turn on the ignition and get some heat in his body. He presses the home button of his mobile with his thumb, pushing the down arrow to scroll through the several pictures in Mickey’s post. He smiled as he saw the images, one of Mickey clicking his bottle of beer to Sophia’s glass of margarita, of Brian and Marge dancing, arms wrapped around each other, gazes locked to one another, a couple of guys laughing with Mickey obviously telling a funny story, by the way one of the men had his head tilted back, probably barking out a loud laugh. He wasn’t really familiar with these guys, wasn’t even sure of the names standing beside Mickey, especially the blonde, tall, extremely attractive guy whose hand was on the curve of his boyfriend’s hip. Ian checks on the tags, trying to decipher the names of everybody in the photo._

**_Troy Dustin Long_ ** _, that’s what the tag said on the photo of the blonde guy. He clicks on the name to check on his profile._

**_Troy Dustin Long_ **

**_Education: New Jersey Institute of Technology_ **

**_Places lived: Greenville, New Jersey._ **

**_Basic Info: Male (gender) Single (relationship)_ **

_Ian had browsed through all other irrelevant information about Troy and decided on checking on all his friends. There were a total of 212 friends, Mickey, Brian, Margaret, Sean, Alice and Bill’s names on the list as their mutual friends. He then went through his timeline and saw a post, a couple of weeks ago with Brian, Bill and Mickey on it._

**_Fun times with this bunch_ ** _the caption says. Ian turns the heat down, his body suddenly getting warmer and warmer by the minute. He takes off his Sherpa jean jacket, putting it beside him on the passenger seat. He grabs his phone on top of the dashboard, temporarily discarding it as he pushes his thick coat off his body. Ian clicks on the post and scrolls through the comment section. He sees a few from Brian and a couple from Mickey. There’s even some from Sophia and Bill._

_The photo shows Troy and Brian sitting side by side on somebody’s couch, both bodies leaning forward, their hands holding a grayish white controller. Ian squinted his eyes, trying to view the entirety of the room, wondering if it looked familiar. He pinches the picture, making the image larger._

_Nope, he muses to himself. This room doesn’t look like any place he knows. It’s probably Brian’s dorm room or maybe Troy’s. Ian continues to read the comments on the photo._

**_Brian:_ ** _bro, I totally beat you on Crash Bandicoot._

 **_Troy:_ ** _f*ck you, me and Mickey are unbeatable._

 **_Brian:_ ** _now that I have Bill on my team, we will fucking crush you!_

 **_Sophia:_ ** _hey, why did nobody call me? when did you guys play?_

 **_Troy:_ ** _last night. you were on a date remember?_

 **_Sophia:_ ** _next time, me and Marge will join you guys._

_He goes to the next picture which shows Mickey flipping the camera off, with a caption on the photo as_ **_Bunch of hungry fellas._ ** _It looks like he was trying to shield his face with his left hand giving the bird, his right hand holding the controller that rests on his thigh. Troy sat beside him with a serious look on his face, body leaning forward, both his hands holding the controller. There are a few bottles of beers on the table, together with an open box of pizza with only a few slices left._

**_Bill:_ ** _look at these assholes having their game faces on._

 **_Sophia:_ ** _i see pizza! I'm jealous :(_

 **_Bill:_ ** _well some princess wanted pizza_

 **_Mickey:_ ** _who you calling princess you shitface!_

 **_Brian:_ ** _you, who else!!!_

 **_Troy:_ ** _somebody won’t quit whining about being hungry, practically begging for pizza._

 ** _Mickey:_** _F*ck you_ ** _@Troy_** **_Dustin Long_**

 **_Troy:_ ** _it is what it is._

 **_Bill:_ ** _as if Troy would ever say no to you, Mick._

 **_Sophia:_ ** _not fair!!!!_

_The next couple of pictures shows an empty pizza box with a caption_ **_Murder_ ** _and a caption less group photo of the boys laying on the couch, their feet propped on top of the table, hands holding their stomachs, faces all pleased and happy. Brian was holding his arm up, probably gripping the camera on his hand, the lens angled towards them. They were all smiling cheekily in the photo, Mickey was seated in the middle of Brian and Troy, Bill standing at the back of the couch making a peace sign. Mickey had his head tilted on the side, body slouched on the couch, his butt almost at the edge of the cushion. His left hand was holding a bottle of beer, like he was about to take a swig when the photo was taken. There was an arm on top of his head, looking a lot like Troy’s who was sitting beside him, his left arm outstretched at the back of the couch._

_Suddenly, there was a growing emotion inside of him, something that he had never felt before. His right hand clamped tightly on his Blackberry, his knuckles going white with how much of this raising desire, this rage that he knows was unwarranted was engulfing him. Ian squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head on the steering wheel, his forehead hitting it with a thud. He breathed slowly, holding it in for a few seconds, allowing the air to properly infiltrate his lungs. Ian did this slow, deep breathing for a few cycles. Four, five, six times before he felt the growing jealous anger begin to wane down. He opens his eyes and looks at the photo once again before getting out of Troy’s timeline to go back to Mickey's original post. It was gaining a few likes, each photo garnering 32 likes by the time Ian decided on calling Mickey._

  
  


_“Yeah. Troy.” Ian simply said._

_“Ian, where is this conversation going?” Mickey asked, sighing loudly._

_He shook his arms and legs, trying to increase the circulation all throughout his body. The motion sending tiny sparks from the lit end of his blunt, small red lights making obscure shapes on the poorly lit sidewalk. His cheeks and ears were going numb, the cold air outside slowly freezing his already cold body. Mickey’s body was already practically screaming for him to give in to the want of feeling warm again and just end this conversation which he knows for sure will turn into an argument in the end._

_“Why did you really call me?” He said on pursed lips, teeth chattering when an icy swift of air breezed his way._

_Ian had his eyes closed the whole time he was talking to Mickey, his mind conjuring images of how he looked. He knows the look Mickey makes with his face when he gets surprised. He does this small intake of breath, his mouth making the shape of an O, eyebrows raised in that perfect arch, his eyes wide and bright like a cloudless sky. Mickey will make a soft small smile after, a faint blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks. Ian also knows what he looks like when he gets frustrated. His eyebrows burrowed tightly, these small creases forming in his glabella, this sort of V in the middle of his forehead, eyes squinting almost to a slit, mouth pursed in a straight line, his nostril flaring a bit, like he’s trying to control his breathing and what words he was about to say._

_He was listening to every intake and exhale of Mickey’s breath, the changes in the tone of his voice, and Ian knows, quite certain that Mickey is irritated, maybe even annoyed by him right now._

_But Ian is fucking irritated too, maybe even annoyed at their situation right now. When he can’t properly see Mickey, be with him, ask him these questions that he has in his head face to face, which is making him irritated, even annoyed with himself. And fuck it, he would rather look at Mickey’s face and not see his own right now, because when he finally opened his eyes for a brief moment and saw his reflection in the rearview mirror, he looked goddamn pathetic and sad and he can’t believe himself for being jealous with seeing pictures of his boyfriend without him, and having that smile on his face that he fucking misses so much. And damn it, he is jealous. He is pathetic, and he wanted, needed answers even if he already knows, even quite certain what Mickey will say to him._

_Ian let out a long breath that he was holding, trying to calm himself. He finally said, “I just want to check up on you, Mick. Am I not allowed to?”_

_Mickey flicked his half finished cigarette on the side of the street as he heard Ian’s response. He brought his hands together, rubbing them aggressively together to generate a quick heat from his almost frozen fingertips up to his arms. There was something in Ian’s voice making him feel like he did something wrong, like he was insinuating something._

_“This is the first time we’ve talked in almost two weeks, Ian, and...”_

_“We talk everyday, Mick.” Ian said quickly, cutting him off._

_Mickey huffed, “Don’t you tell me texting is the same as talking, because it’s fucking not.”_

_“Mickey you know there are things… stuff that I have to do here, right?”_

_“So what, do you not think I’m also doing some stuff here?” He snapped at Ian “But did that ever stop me from calling you even when half the time I just leave a voicemail cause you never answer your goddamn phone.”_

_“Baby..”_

_“Don’t you fucking call me baby, Ian.” Mickey hiccupped, sucking air through his pursed lips. “And now you decided, like hey, why don’t I call Mickey and ask him about this photo I saw of him with his friends, like this is what compelled you to finally call me cause you’re curious and not because you miss your fucking boyfriend?”_

_Ian sighed deeply, “Don’t you have your midterms on Monday?”_

_“Oh my god, Ian! Yeah, so? That’s beside the point of what you originally called me for Ian.”_

_“Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”_

_Mickey pulled the zipper of his thick jacket up to his neck, tucking his chin under the raised collar. Every breath he takes now is visible under the streetlight, his hands almost icy cold on the frigid air. He wrapped both of his hands on his warm phone, making it the only source of heat for his body. Mickey jammed his mobile in between his neck and shoulder again, pressing his cheek closer and tighter to hold his phone in place. He buried his hands deep inside his jeans pockets, his fingers digging on his groin which is warmer than the rest of his body._

_“If I told you that we did study a while ago and decided the last minute to go out like maybe, I don’t know, try to relax?”_

_“Relax? Yeah, you look so relaxed in the photos alright?”_

_“What the fuck do you mean by that, Ian?”_

_“Why does Troy have his hands on you?”_

_“What?”_

_“His hands, Mickey. Why does your ‘friend’ have his hand on my boyfriend’s body?”_

_“Are you kidding me, Ian?” Mickey inhaled deeply, a sudden rush of heat building in his lids. “Did you just fucking called me cause you felt jealous?”_

_“You didn’t answer my question.” Ian drawled, voice low and quiet. “Why does Troy have his hands on you, Mickey?”_

_Mickey sucked a quick breath in and bit his trembling lips, a single tear rolled down his cheek. “He is a friend, Ian. I can’t believe you called me in the middle of the night because you saw a photo and felt jealous of a friend’s hand on me, which for the life of me I cannot remember which part of my body he was actually holding.”_

_“He had his hands on you in a lot of photos, Mickey. A lot. And I can be jealous of the people who I don’t know touching you when I am not there!” Ian shouted over the phone._

_“And it’s my fucking fault that you’re not here?” Mickey gripped his phone with his right hand, his whole body shaking with anger. “I am with Brian and Sophia, Ian. In a group of people who know you and are aware that we are in a relationship.”_

_“I don’t want other men touching you, Mick.” Ian breathed out, “You are mine.”_

_“Mine?” Mickey replied back through gritted teeth._

_He shook his head from side to side and started laughing. Dry and humorless sounds coming out of his mouth, eyes wet and heavy with pooled unshed tears._

_“Do you even care what I think when I see photos of you and Olivia together?” He slowly said to Ian, his voice so low it’s almost creeping out from his throat, “You were in the fucking papers, Ian, acting like some loved up couple in Yale. And you get jealous of Troy, who is my friend, having his hands on me when we are in a group of people having fun?” Mickey’s loud shaky voice echoing on the deserted street._

_“I have a right to get jealous, Mickey.” Ian barked back._

_“Fuck you.” Mickey was full on crying now, voice breaking with the way his throat seemed to be closing in on him, “You don’t even care what I think, how I feel every time I see you with Olivia.”_

_“Do you like it, when other people touch you, hold you like I hold you?” Ian said quickly, like he was losing his breath._

_“You asshole!” Mickey screamed on the phone._

_A warm gush of air hits Mickey’s back, his body turning on to the other side to whoever came out the door of the pub. He hears soft giggling sounds and staggering footsteps walking away from him as he turns his back at them. Mickey sniffed and rubbed the back of his hands on his eyes furiously, face crumpling, shutting his eyes tightly._

_“Fuck you for being jealous of nothing,” he said, voice cracking “Fuck you for calling and thinking..” Mickey's gaze went down to the ground, his body swaying, knees almost buckling, “I can’t believe you are calling me for this.”_

_A hand gently grabs his arm, Mickey jerking from the touch, whipping his head towards the stranger. His face softens when he sees a familiar face, a worried look plastered on his friend’s face._

_“Mickey, what’s going on?” Sophia asks, rubbing her gloved hands on his arms, her eyes searching his face, “Mick?”_

_“Ian, you’re...” Mickey hiccupped, head hanging low to his chest. He grabbed Sophia’s arm to keep himself upright “You’re so…”_

_“Mickey, listen to me…” Ian interrupted._

_“No.” Mickey whispered._

_He folded on himself, body shrinking, making himself small. Mickey was barely holding his phone to his ear, his left hand so numb and cold he thinks it has completely lost its function, probably totally devoid of circulation. He can’t believe how unfair Ian is right now, with the way he ignored his feelings, how he seemed to have lost trust in him, how he doubted him. Mickey inhaled sharply, a loud sob escaping his lips._

_Sophia stepped closer to him, her hands moving swiftly to his waist, gripping his jacket tightly._

_“Hold on to me, Mickey.” Sophia’s stern voice said, pulling him to her small frame._

_“Mick.” Ian said softly, sounding like he was drained, tired._

_She was looking at Mickey with hard, intense eyes and unwavering as she drew Mickey’s body towards her. He allowed her to hold him, his hand gripping at her arm like a vice. Sophia snaked her other arm under Mickey’s underarm, curving it around his back. She held onto his thick coat, getting a better grasp on his upper body. Sophia almost gets toppled over when Mickey leaned his entire upper body on her, clutching her shoulder with almost half his weight. She widened her stance, bending her knees a bit and hiked Mickey up by his underarms, letting his head rest on her shoulder._

_“I can’t. No, I don’t want... I’m hanging up.” Mickey said, voice gruff and soft. He presses the red button from his phone, dropping the mobile on the pavement then pushes himself off Sophia’s body._

_“Fuck!” He barked, then started walking away from his friend, his arms flailing in the air, “Fuck!”_

_“Where the hell are you going?” Sophia shouted, following him._

_Mickey was heaving, breathing so hard his chest started to ache. He bent down and clenched tightly on the front of his jacket, then punched the center of chest, one, two, three until he could feel the pain, the hurt. Mickey inhaled and exhaled, doing it a few times, his chest finally unclenching, until he could breathe again._

_He then spun around, brushing his wet face with the sleeves of his jacket, almost bumping into Sophia as she walked past him._

_“Motherfucker! How dare he… Argh!” he shakes his hands and grabs the nearby lamppost and starts kicking it. Mickey was crying again, “How dare he call me just to ask that?”_

_Sophia grabbed his arms and forced him to look at her. “Calm down, Mick.” she softly says._

_He was looking everywhere but his friend. Mickey hiccupped, as another wave of spasms from his chest up to his throat started. He shut his eyes and let the tears fall, running down his cheeks, down his neck. Sophia pulled his head down to the crook of her neck, his face nuzzling at the collar of her parka. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he cried, his right foot kicking the ground weakly._

_She murmured, “It’s okay, I got you. C’mon, just hold on to me.” pulling Mickey closer to her, even though she knew there was no more space between them. Sophia rubbed her hands up and down Mickey’s back, shushing him as a wave of sobs escaped his lips._

_This is not the first time she’s seen Mickey like this. She knows this look, this deflated look from her friend. If she hadn’t known Mickey, hadn’t been with him for the past few months, almost everyday since they had become friends, she would think that this just might be a spat, a misunderstanding between lovers, but she knows this look. The same look when Mickey saw something in the newspaper a few weeks ago, particularly on Page Six. This was about Olivia. Always about Olivia._

_“Fuck, you’re freezing, Mickey.” Sophia said as she felt Mickey’s body trembling, “You want to get inside?”_

_“No. I wanna go home.” Mickey sniffled, hugging Sophia’s body tightly, hands gripping her small shoulders._

_“Wait, we have to tell them we’re going.” Sophia grunts as she tries to hike Mickey’s body up, his fingers digging deep into his coat. She pulled her phone from the front pocket of her parka and called the name she knew the only one who brought his car, and had not consumed a lot of alcohol the whole night._

_“Troy.” Sophia says over the phone._

_No. “Soph, not Troy.” Mickey murmurs, nuzzling his face further her neck._

_“He’s parked right there, Mick.” She exasperatedly tells him, “Yeah, I got him. He’s with me. We need a ride home. You okay to drive right?” Sophia continues telling their friend. “Oh hey, can you grab my purse… Okay, cool. Yeah, thanks.” She drags Mickey to the lamppost and hoists his body upright on it. “Let me see you.”_

_Mickey had his eyes shut, his mouth turned downwards, tear tracks running down his cheeks, disturbing his smooth, fair skin._

_“You look like shit.”_

_“Soph.”_

_She rubs the tears from his face with her coat sleeves, brushing his hair to a decent pompadour. Sophia lifts the collars of Mickey’s coat and puts a hand on his chest._

_“Stay,” She pressed her hand firmly on top of his sternum and bent down, leaning to the side, her hand trying to reach Mickey’s blackberry on the pavement. “Geez,” Sophia says as her fingers got a hold of the phone, “I thought you broke it.”_

_“Just leave it, Soph.”_

_“What, your phone? Don’t be stupid Mick. Even if you lose this, he’ll still find a way to talk to you.”_

_“Okay, I got your bag, scarf and…” Troy bursted out from the pub, holding the items Sophia asked him to grab. He then turned his gaze at Mickey and his face wilted, “Mick?”_

_Mickey brought his hands up to his face, hiding his hideous face from Troy. He slid down the lamppost, back slowly grazing the cold metal post, bending his knees until he was almost squatting on the ground._

_“What the fuck happened?” Troy goes over to Mickey, putting a hand on his shoulder, eyes looking at Sophia for answers._

_“Ian,” Sophia rolled her eyes at him, “that’s what happened.”_

_“Hey, hey.” He bent down, his eyes searching Mickey’s face. He cradled his neck and asked, “Can you stand up?”_

_Mickey held Troy’s arm, gripping his forearms tightly as he pulled himself up. Troy circled his hands on his biceps, steadying him._

_“I’m sorry.” Mickey said, “I hate that Soph had to drag you out for this.”_

_“Mick, don’t be stupid.” Troy huffed, grabbing him by his shoulders, “C’mon let’s get you home.”_

_________

  
  
  


December 24, 2006

7:35 PM

  
  


“Olivia, how do you find the salmon?”

“I like it very much Mrs. Gallagher. Thank you.”

“Call me Elena, darling. You’re already family.” Elena winking at Olivia as she raises her flute, a server comes hurriedly towards the table.

A week ago, before the start of Ian’s winter break, his mother had called him unexpectedly. He had just left his lecture at Linsly-Chittenden Hall and was walking to the parking lot when he received the call.

_“Ian, darling.”_

_“Mom?”_

_“Why are you surprised?”_

_“Oh, I didn’t expect your call, that’s all. How are you?”_

_“I’m great, sweetheart. Your father and I have great news.”_

_“Hold on a sec, mom.” Ian was getting another call on the other line and saw Mickey’s name. Fuck. He declined his call and went back to his mother, “Yeah sorry. I got uhm..”_

_“Is everything alright?”_

_“Yes, yeah. What’s the good news?” Ian leaned on his car door and gazed around the people walking around him._

_“We invited the Schwarzman’s for Christmas Eve and they accepted.” His mother cheerfully said._

_“Oh.”_

_“Isn’t that exciting. We haven’t seen them since your birthday party.”_

_“Uh huh.” Ian puts his left hand inside his jean jacket and blows out air from his nose._

_“And your father would like to have everybody together, and to spend more time as a family.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Aren’t you excited, darling?”_

_“Yes, very exciting.”_

_“We could make this a new family tradition. The Schwarzman and the Gallagher’s together during the holidays.”_

_“Yes, a tradition.” he bit his lip, nibbling on the meatiest part of it._

_“You sound as if you’re not looking forward to this, Ian. Is there something wrong?”_

_“No, It’s just …uhm, I’m just stressed with school, mom. I still have a lot of studying to do.”_

_“Oh I won’t keep you then. I just wanted to let you know of our plans in the coming week. Maybe you and Olivia should come back here together then, once all your exams are done.”_

_“I don’t…” Ian brought his hand to his face, rubbing his thumb and middle finger on his temples, making circular motions, “I’ll ask her.”_

_“I could call Johnson to let him know.”_

_“No,” Ian replied through gritted teeth, “I’ll ask Olivia first. Her exams are done before mine, she might have other plans.”_

_“Oh that’s unfortunate. Here I thought you both were going to be done at the same time.”_

_“No, she’s got different classes than mine.”_

_“Oh, okay, son. Keep me updated on how you will be coming home, alright.”_

_“I will.”_

_“Okay. See you next week. Good luck on your exams, Ian.”_

_“Thank you, mom.”_

_“Alright, Ian. Take care.”_

_“Yeah,” he sighed, stopping his breath “you too, mom.”_

_He pushed the red button and held on to his phone. His eyes lingered on the screen for a few seconds, his brain trying to process what happened._

_A new family tradition. Ian had to keep this façade longer than he had anticipated and he doesn’t know if he can keep it up._

“That’s nice. Thank you, Elena.” She smiled at the elder Gallagher, raising her glass to her as well.

“In case you don’t have plans,” Christine takes a bite of her roasted scallops, hedgehog mushrooms and onion vinaigrette. “There's going to be a company New Year’s Party at the PUBLIC on the thirtieth. You should consider coming, Ian.”

Ian listened to the conversation from Olivia’s mother and his fake fiancé. He bowed his head, hands fiddling on the hem of his shirt. 

They had invited the whole Gallagher family, including Ian’s bodyguard Johnson. The two younger twin sons of Stephen and Christine run around the dining room table, holding up the light sabers Ian had gifted them, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts. 

Christine was looking at her sons, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets as she shushed them, trying to stop the boys from breaking anything in the room. His father laughed, his voice loud and roaring in the somewhat quiet room. 

“Christine, let the boys have their fun. It’s Christmas Eve, let them do whatever they want.” He pats his mother’s hand, “Me and Elena miss the chaos small children make in the house.” Ernest brings her hand to his lips, “Maybe in a few years, Ian and Olivia can give us grandchildren that will make the household lively again.”

Ian choked on his drink, water drizzling from the sides of his mouth, “Father.” he taps a napkin on his lips, rubbing the moisture off his neck and shirt. “That is..”

“Oh that would be too soon, Mister Gallagher.” Olivia cheerfully says, placing her hand over Ian’s right thigh, “Me and Ian need to enjoy each other’s company first before thinking of having children.”

“But that would be unfortunate.” Ernest looked at his wife then Ian, “You guys have to take advantage of your youth and vigor. To be honest,” Ernest let go of Elena’s hand and grabbed his glass of wine, “that was a mistake on our part. Me and Elena only have Ian here as our child.” pointing his flute at Ian, pursing his lips “We were so preoccupied with the company and hadn’t had any opportunity to ourselves. Ian at that time was enough. But to see some young, boundless energy and laughter in the house again would be wonderful.” Ernest smiles at Olivia.

Ian’s left leg started bouncing involuntarily, his heart hammering, pulses bounding wildly. There was a growing heat in his body, like it’s going up exponentially on its own accord. He wouldn’t dare to look at his father, wouldn't even want to see if he had that mocking look on his face. Ian’s brows furrowed, his hard eyes casted to his still half-finished plate. 

Olivia has had her hand on his thigh for a while now, and he wanted to push it off him, get rid of it, and tell her she can’t touch him like that. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want her to think it’s okay for her to keep doing that. If she thinks it’s comforting him, it’s not. It has the complete opposite effect on him.

He gently placed his hand over Olivia’s and lifted it up, bringing it back to her side. She gave him a look, then squeezed his hand, then forced it back to his thigh.

“Your father is looking.” Olivia whispered.

“Please, I don’t want to do this now.” He whispered back.

“Ian,” Stephen, Olivia’s father who never uttered a word since they started their dinner, suddenly made his presence felt. “I’ve heard you’re doing so good with your classes. I had brunch with Laurence a few days ago.”

“Professor Horn?”

“Yes, the brothers had brunch at the Ritz for the charity event New Year’s celebration. Olivia’s sorority will naturally be there, since they’re our sisters.” He lifted his fork to his lips, “And I expect you to be there as well, Ian.” then took a bite of his Filet mignon. 

“Yes sir.” Ian gulped, hand fidgeting over Olivia’s hand.

“Laurence said your essay on gender diversity on econometrics and quantitative economics deserves an A- in your midterms. He was quite impressed.”

“Thank you.” Ian smiled curtly.

“You know, Ian. I don’t think you’ve been to our house, am I right Olivia?.”

“Yes dad, he hasn’t.” Olivia said smiling, raising an eyebrow at her father.

“You both have a week and a half left on your winter break, you are more than welcome to spend it with us, Ian.”

“Daddy, I’m sure they have plans for the holidays. We don’t want to intrude…”

“Don’t worry Olivia, we actually have nothing planned for the new year. Elena and I,” Ernest waved his hand to one of the servers and pointed at his now empty flute, “will be in Italy on the thirtieth until the second of January. The missus would like to spend the turn of the year with her family. And Ian would gladly come to your company party to accompany Olivia.”

“Dad,” Ian said weakly, looking at his father.

“I also remember Ian saying that he will be spending New Year’s Eve with his friends. Am I correct, son?”

“Friends?” Olivia turned her head at Ian, asking him casually.

“I, uhm...” 

“So you will be alone on New Year’s Eve then, Ian?” Christine asked.

“I, uhm... have plans on New Year’s Eve. My friends,” Ian pulled the front of his shirt and gulped. “Hakeem and his sister invited me to come with them. There’s this New Year’s party in Manhattan and I sort of already said yes.” he looked down, raising his glass to his lips, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.

“Olivia can come with you, Ian. She can be your date to the party, am I right sweetheart?” Stephen grinned at Olivia, “Also, you don’t want to be alone and not kiss someone once the clock strikes twelve.” He looked at Ian and wagged his eyebrows at him. “It would be unfortunate if you kissed somebody you really didn’t care about.” 

Ian choked and started coughing. He pressed his chest hard, trying to relieve his discomfort. But it kept on going, his chest and throat constricting, like he was being gagged. Ian made a forced cough, bending his body as he released the loud barking sound. He planted his feet on the floor, his thighs and ass pressing on the cushion hard, then pushed the chair backwards, almost toppling it over with the force. 

“Are you alright?” Olivia tried to get up with him, her hand reaching to Ian.

“I’m sorry.” He waved his hand to Olivia, his eyes scanning the room wildly, “I’m sorry.” 

“Ian.” He heard his mother call out to him, but Ian ignored her and continued pushing himself off the table. 

Ian’s feet shifted back and forth, his heels digging deep in his shoes as he got out of his chair, out of the room. His mind just telling him to go somewhere, anywhere, just get out of the house… fast. 

He kept walking, his legs making long, hurried strides to the door. His left hand automatically went inside his pocket, gripping the only item he almost always had his hands on. Ian's right hand went up, clenching the top of his sternum, his fingers clutching the soft fabric of his button up. His feet brought him to the path towards the garden, the pebbled ground a bit slippery as his dress shoes hit the surface. 

It was cold that night, the temperature going down to mid forties, the air around him chilly and biting. From the tips of Ian’s nose, down to his toes, he could feel the coldness seeping in, slow steady coldness enveloping his body. But Ian had been feeling cold, very cold and lonely for weeks, maybe even a month. And tonight is not so different from the rest of the days without Mickey, cold, gloomy, lifeless. It had been a month since he last saw Mickey, and Ian knows why, knows he needed to do it to appease Olivia. 

Just a few days ago was their last phone call, and he couldn't believe what he had done, what he made himself do. He had to hurt Mickey, make him angry at him. Ian wanted to know that he’s not the only one suffering, and not see in social media that Mickey was having fun without him. But it turned out, he’s hurting himself more, with the way he made Mickey feel that night, like he accused him of something he himself knows Mickey wasn’t capable of. He was jealous and he hates it, hates himself for feeling that way. Because he’s an empty vessel of a man now than he was before he met Mickey. And Ian decided, for their sake, to pull back, pull back away from Mickey, be that hollow man again.

His hand kept on digging inside his pocket, gripping his phone. It was as if holding the gadget in his hand was giving him a certain calmness, a safety net, like a stronghold, his citadel. 

Ian thought for a moment of calling Mickey, maybe just to hear his voice, even just hear the sound of his breathing. 

He pulled his phone out from his pocket and pushed the green button. His hands began to shake, knuckles turning white as he held his mobile in his hands. Ian brings his phone back in his pocket, and keeps his hand there. He looked up to the sky and saw tiny, feathered crystals of snow dancing in the air. A few hit his face, already cold and numb. _Numb._ Not from the cold, Ian thought to himself, definitely not from that, but from the emptiness inside of him that grows and grows, and it just won’t stop growing. 

He closes his eyes and imagines what would’ve been, could’ve been. If Ian had called Mickey, maybe he would finally pick up the phone and take his call. Tonight, in this cold evening, this Christmas Eve, maybe Ian could let him know that he had thought of him, is thinking about him, constantly, everyday, every moment that they weren’t together. And Ian would feel warm again, and fucking remedy the coldness and emptiness he feels inside. 

Ian looked at the time on his watch and saw that it was about two hours until midnight. And he knows Mickey is with Brian’s family, his brother from another mother. The guy who messaged him after they had the fight a few days ago, and told him not to call Mickey until he gets his shit together. And he still doesn’t have his shit together, he may have dug himself deeper into this shit show of a life he has. 

“Ian.” 

He turned around, just a tad too slow to be normal. It's as if he knows someone will come out and look for him, ask to go back inside and not be an embarrassment. Ian blinks, eyelids fluttering, trying to get rid of the speckle of snow on his eyes. He sees Johnson walking towards him with his coat in his hands, eyes still and focused on him.

“Put this on,” Johnson hands him his jacket, “or you’ll freeze to death.”

“Thank you.” He said, teeth chattering. 

“Do you want me to get back there and tell them you’re not feeling well?”

“You think they would buy that?” Ian sighed, shoulders slumping as his arm reaches out to grab the coat off Johnson’s hands. 

“I’ll tell your father you drank a little bit too much tonight and I found you out here puking your brains out on the lawn.”

“Yeah, that’s… yeah, that’s a good idea.” He puts on his coat, zipping himself up to his neck. “I think that would work.” Ian started pulling the sleeves of his jacket lower until it covered the tips of his fingers. “Thank you, Johnson.”

“You alright?”

“No.” he said softly, brows creased, face tensed and morose. “No, I’m not.” 

“Just get yourself to bed, I’ll take care of your father.” Johnson pats him on the shoulder then nudges him towards the house. “Go before somebody else looks for you.”

Ian nodded and started walking back, his head bent down, his dress shoes colliding in the uneven pebbled pathway, the heels of his shoes making clicking sounds. He dug into his pant pocket once again and pressed the green button. He opened a thread of a one-sided conversation, accumulating and remaining unanswered for days. Ian composes a message then pressed send.

_I hope you’re doing well. Have a happy holiday, Mickey. Merry Christmas. ily._

_________

Same night

11:38 PM

He’s had his sixth drink of the night and Joe is already looking at him funny and it’s making Mickey feel self-conscious.

“What?” he scowled at Joe, jutting his face at him. “What the fuck are you looking at old man?”

“I think you should drink some water, Mickey.” Joe said as he fixed the white beard on his face in front of the full-length mirror. 

He had on a Santa costume, complete with the red hat, round glasses and beard. It has been a tradition in Joe's family for years, ever since Brian and Nick were little. Joe has been Santa every Christmas Eve, even when his kids already know this big white fat dude is not real, even when Brian and Nick were already out of their teens for years. Joe thinks the tradition should stay and everybody should fucking enjoy it. But since both of his children are in the other room with their partners, probably making out in their own secluded spaces, Mickey thinks they wouldn’t care less of this tradition, maybe are just pretending to be into it to appease their father. And being a family is like that, even if they have definitely outgrown the tradition, even if they find it ridiculous and awkward, they still do it with Joe just to make him happy.

Mickey places his bottle of beer on the floor then leans his head on the back of the love seat, putting his right arm under his head. There is a large red drawstring bag beside him, filled with an assortment of gifts for Ivy, Brian, Marge, Nick and his girlfriend Tabitha. He watches a very excited Joe, his hands rummaging through the bag, counting all the boxes inside of it. 

“I hope you have something in there for me, Joe?” 

“When have I ever forgotten to get a present for you, stupid?” Joe snickered, turning away from him, pulling the drawstrings of the bag, tying it like a bow “And you better wear this thing the whole night.”

“Don’t tell me you got me a fucking ugly sweater?”

“Ha! I’m not gonna tell you. Whatever it is, Ivy made it for you.”

“Okay, so it’s not ugly then.” He places his right foot over his left knee “I trust Ivy’s taste.”

“Really, now. Remember to say that once you see this thing.” Joe laughed as he flung the bag over his shoulder. “C’mon you’ve got to gather all the children.”

“Children? Brian is literally a year older than me.”

“So what, they’re still kids to me. Quit stalling and tell them to come over here for gifts.”

“Fine!” He huffed. Mickey pushes himself off the love seat and his feet stomping to the dining room.

“Your father called you assholes.”

Not one of the people inside the room acknowledged him or his sudden announcement. He saw Brian chatting with Marge, still sitting in front of the dining table, their bodies angled towards each other, talking in quiet voices. Mickey turned his gaze to the farthest corner of the room and saw Nick sucking faces with Tab, his hand gripping her waist as she sat sideways on top of his thighs. He always found Nick as the bolder son, more daring. But man, this boy has got to calm down sometimes. He’s practically making out in front of his brother, like even right in front of the Christmas ham. _Jessuz._

Mickey clears his throat, “Excuuussse me,” he said louder “your father wants y’all in the other room.” 

Brian and Marge turned to him, with soft smiles on their faces. Mickey smiled back at them then tilted his head to the other pair, flicking his eyes towards Nick and Tabitha who sat up quickly off the chair. They jerked away from each other and started wiping their faces, straightening their clothes with the palms of their hands. Mickey grimaces at them and says, “You still have lipstick on your cheek, Nicky.”

“Shit.” The younger boy says, wiping his face with the back of his hands, making it worse.

“Nick it’s all over your face now.” Brian grins at him.

“Fuck. Can you...” his eyes casted to his very embarrassed girlfriend, who’s gone redder than a beetroot. “We, uhm…” He grabs Tab’s hand, “We’ll be right back.” pulling her to the kitchen, mad dashing to the next room.

Just as they sprinted towards the kitchen, Ivy came out holding the fruitcake in her hands, “Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry, mom. We’ll be back.” dragging poor Tabitha with him.

“Kids.” Mickey muses. “Hey, you need some help?”

He went over where Ivy was standing, taking long strides then moved some of the dishes on the table, making space for the cake. 

“Thanks, Mick.” Ivy says as she places the fruitcake at the side of the dining table. “Is Joe ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. He asked me to get you guys to the other room like ten minutes ago. Damn, he’s gonna be wondering what’s taking you so long.”

Brian stood up from the table and pulled Marge’s chair so she could stand up. He whispered something to her as she pushed her body off the table. She nodded, putting a hand on his chest then kissed Brian on the cheek.

“Ivy,” Marge walked towards her and placed a hand on her forearm. “We can go ahead to the living room together. I think the boys need to talk.”

Ivy looked at Brian and Mickey, her eyes moving back and forth. Brian hiked his left eyebrow up and pursed his lips. She squinted her eyes at him, her lips twitching upwards. 

“Alright, sure. Don’t be too long, you hear.” placing her hand over Marge’s on her forearm, “And also get Nicky and Tab after your talk, we wouldn’t want to keep your father waiting.”

“Okay, mom.” Brian blew an air kiss to his mother then turned his head at Mickey who’s standing motionless by the wall. He cocked his head and motioned for Mickey to sit beside him. 

The two women smiled at the both of them as they walked hand in hand to the other room. Mickey waited a few seconds before he looked at Brian, arching his eyebrows at his best friend, narrowing his eyes. He sighed loudly before pushing himself off the wall. 

“I don’t wanna guess what you want us to talk about, Brian.” he says as he walks to the side where Brian was standing.

“Have you checked your phone?” pulling a chair and turning it the other way, “Cause I think you should.”

“Do I have to? I’ve got all the people I care about in this house.” Mickey says then pulls the chair next to Brian’s, turning it so they're facing each other.

“You sure you’ve got everything you care about in this house, do you want me to text Soph and tell her that? She’s been texting nonstop for two hours, asking if you’re okay.”

“I’ll deal with her later.”

“What about Bill, Sean, Alice, Troy… Ian?”

“I’ll deal with all of them later, Brian.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, then looked in the opposite direction of Brian. “Is that all? I sort of would like to get my Christmas present.”

Brian leaned in and held the armrests in Mickey’s chair, “Check your damn phone, Mick.” Brian drawls, “I don’t want my phone blowing up with our friends calling and texting me, checking how the fuck you are like I’m your keeper or something.” He released his hold on the chair then stood up, tilting his head at Mickey, “Check your goddamn phone, Mickey.” then walks out of the room.

Mickey clenched his jawline and flickered his eyes to Brian’s retreating form. He gripped his biceps tightly, probably leaving whitish fingerprints on his skin. His throat bobbed, a single tear running down his cheeks. He sniffed and wiped the tear track with his thumb, his left leg bouncing, his heel making a tapping sound on the floor.

“Hey, where’d everybody go?” Nick says as he and Tabitha enter the dining room. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, deep enough that he’s almost scowling. Mickey grunts and pushes himself off the chair and rubs a hand over his face. “Everybody’s in the other room, was waiting for your horny asses.”

“We weren’t..” Nick’s eye goes wide, his hand holding the waist of a crouching Tabitha beside him, her eyes casted on the floor. 

“Save it, Nick.” Mickey drags the chair backwards by his foot then stood up, “C’mon, let’s go get our stupid gifts.”

_________

  
  


December 30, 2016

9:15 PM

  
  


“Good Evening everyone. I am Stephen Schwartzman, and not that I need to remind any of you, but I am the CEO of Blackstone Group of Companies.”  
  
  


A loud roar and clapping was heard from the guests and associates, making Stephen raise his hand to calm the people down. 

“Alright, settle down everyone, I need to finish my speech.“ He smiles at the people around him and waves his hand to the person at the side of the stage. 

“Okay, It is my distinct pleasure and honor to welcome you all to the 32nd Annual New Year’s Company Party. Every year we celebrate the continuous success of the company and the huge milestone of being the top investing firm in the world for three consecutive years.”

Another round of applause erupted, making the older Schwartzman raise his hand again trying to shush the crowd.

“I want to thank every single one of you for taking the time to join us on this occasion and it is wonderful to see so many friends, colleagues and family around the room.”

“My wishes for the New Year are for us to remain aware of what holds us together at heart, the focus that we have in common, to succeed in inspiring people to do better, no, to do the best work by paying attention, truly listening and showing understanding for the needs of others.”

Stephen raises his flute. “With all humility and gratitude to everybody’s work, let us all celebrate our success and continually work together as a unit to make the next year the best for everyone.”

He waves his glass around the room then continues, “Like the great Oscar Wilde said, _Take everything in moderation, including moderation.”_

Stephen grins widely, “And I have been out for dinner with most of you, and I would like to stress tonight is an open bar, and I strongly suggest for everyone to please take the drinking in moderation. I don’t want anybody getting in trouble tonight. Raise all your glasses,” He brings his flute in front of him, “Cheers everyone. Have a great night.” then takes a huge gulp of the champagne.

All the people in the room cheered then drank from their glasses as Christine and Olivia walked up to the stage and hugged Stephen.

Ian remained standing at the side of the stage with his half-filled flute in his hands, staring at the sight before him. 

Stephen had one of his hands on his wife’s waist, the other clasping Olivia’s hand. He gave Christine and his daughter a kiss on each of their cheeks then walked towards the left side of the stage, proceeded going down the stairs hand in hand. 

They look like a political family, Stephen just being inaugurated as a mayor of the city, his lovely wife and daughter smiling happily at their friends and constituents. Many of the people started coming over to them, giving their congratulations and best wishes, clicking their glasses filled with champagne and cocktails, toasting the success of the past year. His gaze went to Olivia’s brothers who were seated at the large circular table situated in the middle of the room, with their nannies in tow, helping them eat their cakes. 

Ian remained standing near the wall, silently watching everybody. He felt so out of place even though many of the people inside the room he had met before, and are business associates of his father, probably are also friends of his family. 

He kept to himself, allowing Olivia to mingle and hobnob with the other young socialites and the B-list celebrities in the party. These ‘celebs’ were actually reality TV stars that the company deemed noteworthy to invite to the party, literally getting famous for not doing anything. Young attractive people with their fake tans, faces made up perfectly, hair styled in the latest trend, donning the most expensive clothes, using the latest model of phones, purses and shoes who don't do anything, just merely existing. And that’s fucking pathetic to be famous for.

Ian doesn’t understand it, with how much these people show their lavish lifestyles, their privilege, their fancy, shiny fake selves. He knows they were just invited so the party would be featured in the papers or some gossip magazine. He knows that these people would probably just spend a few minutes in the event to take pictures with some of the guests and say their best wishes to Stephen, Christine and Olivia. Ian often times wonders why Olivia wasn’t one of these socialites. She definitely has the money for it, not to mention the looks for it.

There were a lot of photographers everywhere, maybe even some paparazzi, he doesn’t know, doesn't care. All he came here to do was be seen with Olivia. And he thinks he was photographed enough for the night, even walking the red carpet earlier with the Schwarzman family. Once they stepped inside the room an hour ago, Olivia has been dragging him from one group of people to another, introducing him as her fiancé who goes to Yale, this triathlete, which Ian doesn't even know that he’s one. He smiled and nodded, exchanged a word or two with them. Ian even tells them he’ll find them again later to continue their conversation as soon as they're done doing the round, which he will never do. Ian will definitely not do that.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked away, making a beeline to the bar. A couple of people stopped him along the way, some men he had talked to earlier whose names he’d forgotten a long time ago. They were making small talk when a familiar face walked by him.

“Bill?”

“Ian?” the tall, lanky ash blonde guy says back at him. 

“Shit, what are you doing here?”

“Uhm, duh… serving?” Bill scoffed at Ian, raising the tray full of canapés on his right hand. 

“Excuse me,” One of the men uttered, and for the life of Ian, his name he still can’t remember, taking one step forward to stand beside him. “You shouldn’t be talking to guests that way.” 

“I’m so…” Bill softly says.

“No, he’s a friend.” Ian cuts Bill, his hand automatically reaching out to him, placing it on his shoulder, like he’s assuring the men that he does in fact know him.

“A friend?” the other guy said, his eyes moving from Bill’s head to toe. “Why, do you go to Yale too?” 

“Uhm…” Bill moves his weight from one foot to the other, putting the tray to his other hand. “No?”

“How do you know him then?” The guy beside Ian raises an eyebrow at Bill, mouth pursing around the flute on his hand as he takes a sip of his champagne. 

Bill clears his throat, “He’s uhm..”

“Can you excuse us, gentlemen.” Ian turns to both men, his body slightly blocking Bill from their prying eyes, “I haven’t seen my friend in a long time, and I don’t appreciate you interrogating him like we are in a goddamn courtroom.” he snappily says. 

“Ian, we were having a conversation when he rudely interrupted us.”

“Ian, sirs. It’s totally fine. I’ll just…” Bill whispered to him.

“He didn’t interrupt anything.” Ian snapped at one of the guys, “I was the one who cut our conversation when I saw him walking by.” He quirked an eyebrow and plastered the fakest smile his face could conjure, “If you could be so kind and give us a moment. I haven’t seen my friend in months. We will continue our conversation once I have caught up with what’s happening in his life. Okay?” 

One of the guys sighed audibly, his nose flaring, “Fine, Ian. We'll catch up later.” then walked away, the other guy following him but not before squinting his eyes at Bill’s nameplate.

Ian’s eyes followed the guys retreating forms, one of them going to one of the servers and pointing a finger at Bill. The other one continued to go to the center of the room, where a lot of the guests were already dancing. He continued looking at the man, who was obviously trying to get Bill into trouble, his eyes tracking his every move as he spoke to an older man, who was looking in their direction as he listened to what the guy was saying to him. 

“Ian, shit. I think I just lost my job.” Bill nervously whispers.

He held the older man’s gaze, like he was almost daring him to do something. The man tilted his head to the side then faced the guy Ian was talking to a while ago. He seemed to have said a few words to him, then placed a hand to his chest and bent his body, like he’s making a courtesy. The guy’s face looked shocked, even affronted with what the older man had said to him, pointing a finger at him then whipped around, stomping towards a group of people on the dance floor. 

“If they fire you tonight, they will get a word from my lawyer.” 

“Damn, Ian. Who are you?”

“Nobody. Just somebody who people should never fuck around.”

“Geez, should I call you my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck you.” Ian laughs, nudging Bill’s shoulder, his friend almost dropping the tray from his hand.

“Dude, the canapés!”

“Fuck the canapés. C’mon, let’s have a smoke somewhere. This fucking party blows.”

“I’m still on the clock, man.”

“Bill, whatever they’re paying you tonight, I’ll double it.” 

His friend stood motionless, his brows burrowing at Ian, “You can’t do that.”

Ian let out a breath, pulling his lower lip to his teeth. He grinned then said, “I got you. I’ll talk to your supervisor later, ‘kay?” He pulled the tray out of Bill’s hand and placed it on top of the bar, “C’mon man, I just wanna have a smoke.” 

Bill stared wide eyed at Ian then to the tray on top of the bar then back to Ian again. He fish mouths a few times before deciding to close his mouth, his gazing going down to his feet. When Bill raised his head, eyes creasing with a wide grin on his face.

“I uhm.. I actually have something better than a smoke.” He loosens his tie and pops the top button off from his black dress shirt. “Where are you parked?”

“He was so mad at you, you know.” Bill passes the almost done blunt to Ian then blows out the smoke slowly from his mouth, “it's the first time I’ve seen Mickey that upset.”

Ian takes the rolled up joint and puts it in between his lips and takes a long drag. They were sitting at the hood of his two seater, silver BMW Z4, Bill making sure to put his coat under his ass, afraid that he might put a scratch on the car. 

He lets the smoke slowly invade his lungs, his chest expanding as the fumes go down his trachea, to the two main bronchi, reaching the many bronchioles and alveoli, until it permeates his blood, the drug going into his system, making him feel lighter, even though the news of him making Mickey very upset is making his chest heavy.

“He didn’t really tell us what happened but Soph sort of said it might be because of you and Olivia.” Bill looks at him sideways then elbows his rib, “Don’t tell me you finally caved and joined the straight club.”

“Fuck no.” puffing out the smoke through his lips, “I still roll with Tinkerbell.” 

“Then what happened, man. Not that you need to tell me, but you know, seeing Mickey literally drowning himself everyday with alcohol is kind of worrying me.”

Ian took a moment to reply, trying to think of a better of way to say how he fucked up that night, but he knew what he felt and there’s no sugar coating it, even though Bill might think he’s stupid and basically just fucking…

“I was jealous. I got fucking jealous of Troy and,” He rubs the back of his neck, “I accused Mickey and I don’t know,” Ian huffs and drags his hand from his neck to his face, pinching his nose, “I fucking saw this picture of you guys on his Facebook.”

“Which one?”

Ian flicks the spent blunt on the ground and pulls his phone from his pocket. He opens Facebook and goes to Mickey’s profile, scrolling until he sees the post with the pictures. He clicks on the particular photo and knows as soon as he shows it to Bill, Ian will be called a name which he also told himself after the fight.

Bill peered first over Ian’s shoulder before getting the phone from his hand. He chuckled and shook his head, “You are one stupid motherfucker. You know that right?”

“Y-eah.” Ian made a long sigh then dropped his face forward on his hands, murmuring “so fucking stupid.”

“Okay, Ian. Here’s the deal.” he tilted his head at him, one brow raised higher than the other, “Troy is a friend. He’s like one of us, Mickey’s pals, buds, maybe even family. He may have had the hots for Mickey before, but right now, he’s truly just a friend.” 

Bill slid down from the hood of the car and threw Ian’s phone on his lap. He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“What’s so funny about that night is that Troy was actually cruising this guy in the club all night and was about to seal the deal when Soph called and said that she needed help with Mickey. You should’ve seen how bummed he was, man. The other guy was practically becoming putty in his arms while they were dancing.” 

Bill looked down, shook his head, laughing lightly. He looked up, turning his gaze to Ian, then sighed audibly, “But you see, Mickey never ever asks any of us for help, not ever. And for Soph to call him and say Mickey needs help that night, any one of us who gets that kind of call, would drop what we’re doing and go to him. No questions asked. And none of us ever did ask any questions, not since that night.”

Ian leans his body forward, placing his elbows on top of his thighs. He entwines his fingers together, putting his chin over it. He looked at Bill with sad eyes.

“He’s been drinking, like a lot, Ian. Not even Brian can stop him. We all tried, all of us went to his apartment individually everyday to check up on him.” He flopped his hands dramatically in front of him, “Sophia doesn’t even cook, Ian. But she did, she got him to eat something, anything every time she comes over to his place.” Bill turns around and places his hands on his hips, his back facing Ian. 

Ian could see Bill breathing heavily, his shoulders raising and dropping every time he takes a breath. He stayed like that, just looking out to the vast space where other luxury cars are parked. Bill brings his hands to his neck, winding them around his nape. He exhaled a large breath then turned around to face Ian. 

“You do love him, right?” Bill asks, taking a step closer to him, dropping his hands to his sides. “You do care and trust Mickey, right?”

“Yes. You know I do, Bill.” He heaved himself off the hood of the car and stood a few feet away from Bill, his eyes not leaving his face. Ian’s lips twitched and he turned his face away, his eyes starting to water. He sniffed, “I didn’t mean to hurt him, but that night, I don’t know what came over me, but,” Ian slumped, shoving his hands inside his pants pockets, biting his slightly trembling lips, “I miss him so much, Bill. I don’t know if you’ll understand any of this, but I’m just a boy here, a boy who doesn’t know how to get himself out of this mess of a life.”

Ian chuckled dryly, raising his right hand to his face, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffled, “I thought I could do it, you know, be Mickey’s boyfriend and Olivia’s fake fiancé at the same time. Like in my mind I thought I could handle it.”

“That night was the first time I was relatively alone with myself. I was always with Olivia to accompany her to some party or function or something for her sorority. There are even nights when we have dinners with the Dean of my course at least once a week, who happens to be a friend of her father.”

He tilted his head sideways, looking over Bill’s shoulder “I had just finished studying with my friends and I don’t know what compelled me to check his Facebook. But it took a photo of Mickey smiling and happy without me to trigger this feeling, this ugly emotion from me.”

Bill listened quietly, nodding every so often as Ian tells his story, clasping his hands in front of him. 

Ian clears his throat then continues, “Olivia saw Mickey when he came over to my apartment a few weeks ago. He went out to get something in the store close to my place and Oliva happened to be there as well.” Ian rolled his shoulder, “She took a picture of him and asked some favors from her father’s people to find information about Mickey.”

Ian ran a hand on top of his hair, messing his well-styled hair, “They found him through the system, everything about him, all names and addresses of the foster families he stayed at when he was in California.” 

He looked at Bill, his eyes stinging with the warm tears that had pooled on his lids, “These people got to find out where he lives in New York, his college, his fucking class schedule everyday in City Tech.” A tear ran down his cheek, he huffed as he looked down, licking the seam of his lip. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve got information about you, Brian, Soph, Sean, Alice, and even fucking Troy.” 

“What do you mean by this?”

“What me and Olivia have is a business arrangement, Bill. An agreement between our families years before I'd met Mickey. I have to marry her someday or else…”

“Or else what?”

Ian exhaled and said lowly, “They could ruin Mickey. They could ruin this good life that he has right now, everything and I…” he gasped, abruptly putting a hand over his mouth. Ian wiped his eyes with his knuckles, “I’m afraid of what they will do to Mickey once they found out about us.” Ian flickered his sad eyes at Bill who was looking at him curiously. “What they will do to all of you.”

“What does Olivia know about you and Mickey, Ian? Does she know you guys are in a relationship?”

“She does. Olivia knows that there’s something going on between the two of us. But how deeply I feel for Mickey, how much he means to me, no.” 

Bill clenched his jaw and breathed in through his nose, “Okay.” exhaling through his lips, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Ian said weakly, his body suddenly drained.

He rubbed his thumb and ring finger over his temples, “Alright. First off, you're an idiot. Second, you don’t know what we, me, Soph, Bri, Sean, Alice and Troy are capable of.” 

Ian stared at the other boy, his eyes blinking wide, “I know I’m an idiot, Bill. You don’t need to keep reminding me of it.” 

“I’m not yet done, stupid.” Bill making a face at him, “Third, now I understand why you’ve not been calling Mickey for the past few weeks or not usually dropping by randomly to make googly eyes with your boy.” He arched an eyebrow at Ian “You know, there’s been a bet going on in the group and my money was on you finally swinging the bat the other way. So fuck, I lost $20 on that.” 

Bill patted Ian’s shoulder, which was still slumped, his hands hanging limply on his sides “What are you doing tomorrow evening, Ian?”

“I uhm, I’ll be bringing Olivia to this New Year’s Eve party at Knickerbocker with my friends. She insisted on coming with me, I didn’t actually invite her.”

“Alright, good.” Bill beamed at him then dropped his hand from Ian’s shoulder.

Ian jutted his face forward, forehead wrinkling, “Good?” he asked.

Bill grabbed his jacket on the hood of Ian’s BMW and put it on, fixing his tie and shirt collar. 

“So, I’m going to be needing your magical powers tonight, Ian.”

“Magical powers? What the fuck are you talking about”

“Your powers, your influence that I won’t get fired for being MIA for a couple of hours when I’m actually on the clock.”

“Okay?”

Bill turned around and seemed to be walking back to the elevator.

“Where are you going?”

He whipped around, making a pitiful pirouette, “Back to the party, where else? I still have a few hours until I’m done with my side job.” 

Ian’s face crunched, mouth pursing, turning into pout, “But, I don’t want to get back in there.”

“Well how can you talk to my supervisor to make sure I’m not fired if you stay out here, dummy?” Bill smiled at him, cocking his hip at the side.

Ian rolled his eyes, flipping his finger at Bill, “Alright fuck. I’ll go back in there, only because I owe you one with the joint and the talk.” the sides of his lips turning upwards. 

Bill wound his hand over Ian’s shoulder, squeezing his deltoids, then nudged him towards his body, “Also,” Ian peered at Bill and saw him smirk, eyes narrowing slightly, “I have a plan.”

__________

December 31, 2016

11:18 PM

There were so many bodies moving around him. Hard, sweaty, warm bodies that kept on touching, twisting, spinning, grinding, holding each other's body tightly like snakes mating. He used to love dancing, actually Mickey still loves the feeling of the warm press of a body on him. Hands gliding and holding him into place as their bodies bump into each other, their hips and feet moving with the beat of the music. 

_Moxy’s_ was jam packed with revelers that night, all decked with their best clothes, faces and hair styled to perfection. Each and everyone in the club was ready to pull or be pulled into someone’s body, maybe pushed into a warm embrace by their dates or partners and get a wet kiss as they welcomed the New Year. And Mickey had to close his eyes thinking about this, that he won’t be with the person he wanted, yearned for in the past few days.

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to look at the faces of the people around him. Mickey squinted his eyes as he tried to accommodate the lights hitting his pupils at random times. The images he was perceiving were making odd shapes, everybody’s faces a warbled mess in his mind. But one thing that certainly registers in his brain when he looks at them is everyone looked so happy, grinning at each other like idiots as they danced, laughing at each other as they clicked their glasses, gulping their choice of drinks. 

Mickey was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with a random person, who had pulled his drunk, sad body from the bar. His hands were holding his hips the wrong way. He wanted to move them, slide this guy’s hand on top of his stomach, just below his navel. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t want anybody’s hand on that space. There’s only one person that can hold him like that, and he’s not here, won’t be able to hold Mickey like he wanted to. 

Two hours ago, Sophia had picked him up with her transitory boyfriend of the week, driving her Corolla as she sat shotgun in the car. They met Brian, Marge and Alice at the door, all of them waiting patiently at the entrance as they walked on the sidewalk. Alice had brought a date with her, Kristen, who she had been seeing for a couple of weeks. She looked meekly at all of them, standing at Alice’s side as she introduced her to them. Bill, Brian said, will be arriving before midnight, having accepted a last minute shift on New Year’s Eve. Mickey sent him a text soon after, telling him the reservation name they left at the receptionist, making it easier for him to find their table, so he wouldn’t get lost when he comes in later. 

_“Jesus Christ Ian, hurry the fuck up!” Bill stood outside Knickerbocker, holding his bike in his hands. “I’m freezing out here, man.” He shouts at his phone._

_“Shit, I’ll be out in a second. I got Olivia talking to one of Hakeem’s girlfriend model friends to chat with her. What time is it?”_

_“What am I, your personal assistant?” Bill scoffed at him. “It’s twenty minutes to midnight. C’mon, Ian. Let’s fucking go.”_

_“Fuck, okay. I’m almost to the elevators. Shit.”_

_Ian ran as fast as he could to the elevators, making it just in time before the doors slid closed. He was breathing hard, his ribs heaving up and down as he tried to get as much air in his lungs. His heart was rabbiting fast, like this vital organ was punching his chest cavity, trying to get out of his body. He doubles over and clutches the middle of his chest and tries to will his heart to calm down. Ian begs, prays that his body and mind work with him tonight and not have an anxiety attack now. Not before he gets to Mickey._

_Ian slowly stands up, his hand holding the wall as he lifts his body in an upright position. A loud ping suddenly breaks his panic state, the doors of the elevator sliding open. He sprints out of the platform, his eyes zeroing in at the doors of the hotel leading outside._

_Once his feet stepped out of the doorway, he jogged down the stairs, taking it two at a time and immediately saw Bill standing by the fire hydrant at the corner of the street, waving his hands wildly at him._

_“Hey, lover boy. Hurry the fuck up. We only got fifteen minutes left!”_

_There’s probably three, four thousand people on the street that night, and it’s making him want to puke with the possibility of not making it in time. The Knickerbocker is about a few blocks away from Moxy’s, but with the amount of people congesting the street, they would be having a hard time weaving their way out of here._

_“Eyes on the price, Ian. I’ve got you. I’m not a fucking local of the city if I don’t know how to maneuver my way out of this chaos. We’ll get there in ten minutes max.” Bill gets on the bike, saddling the bike seat and turns to him, “C’mon bro, get your sweet ass up here,” motioning with his eyes for him to step on to the foot stand “and hold on tightly to my shoulders. Let’s go get Mickey.”_

**“** **_T_ ** **_**w** enty. Nineteen. Eighteen_ .** **”**

Mickey bits his lip as he hears the people shouting around him. This guy he’s been dancing with still had a hand on his hip and it’s making him itch, it itched enough that he wanted to yank his fingers that’s digging onto his hip, like he wanted his hand off of him right the fuck now. 

**“** **_S_ ** **_eventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen."_ **

Mickey wraps his hand on the guy's wrist and turns his body to him. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” random guy asks Mickey.

**“ _F_** ** _ourteen. Thirteen. Twelve._ ** **”**

Ian and Bill bursted into the club, eyes scouring hurriedly at the huge crowd in front of them.

“Sophia, where the fuck is Mickey?” Bill holds his phone close to his mouth, shouting over the loud voices of people doing the countdown. 

**_“Eleven.”_ **

“What? What do you mean you lost him?”

**_“Ten. Nine. Eight.”_ **

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Mickey moves away from the guy, his head hanging low on his chest, his face scrunching like he’s about to cry.

"What the hell?"

**_“Seven. Six.”_ **

“I see him. Fuck I see Mickey!” Ian sees the familiar mop of black hair in the crowd, his body going in a continuous motion out on the dance floor. He jumped from where he was standing and started making long steps, weaving his way through the cramped up bodies in the club.

Mickey’s eyesight was going blurry. He doesn’t even know where he’s going. But he’s certain he was moving, his feet shifting fast as he tried to get off of the dance floor. Mickey’s tears were falling freely from his eyes, the collar of his shirt getting soaked with how much water was dripping from his face.

“Mickey, wait.”

**_“Five. Four. Three.”_ **

Ian was getting close, close enough that he could almost touch him. But Mickey was moving so rapidly, he had to push people out of his way so he could get closer to him. There were only two people separating them, and he’s so close, so close he can almost smell him, feel the warmth coming off Mickey’s body.

**_“Two.”_ **

Mickey wipes the tears from his face with the back of his hand, his elbow extending to the side as he flings his arm away from his face.

Ian rounded the last person separating them and got a hold of Mickey’s elbow as he swung it to his side, his hand circling his wrists. He forced him to turn around, winding his hand at the back of his waist.

_Crystal clear blue sky on Evergreens_.

“I got you.”

“Ian.” Mickey said softly.

**_“One.”_ **

Mickey’s eyes rounded, a small gasp escaping his lips. Ian took the moment to lean in, cradling Mickey’s jaw with his hand, pursing his lips on his opened mouth. He pulled Mickey’s lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it until he could hear a soft whine coming out from his boyfriend’s mouth. Mickey’s fingers curled on top of Ian’s chest, pulling him closer to him. He tilts his head to the side and parted his lips wider, letting Ian’s tongue swipe over his lips then inside his mouth. 

Ian made a happy, contented growl and moved his left hand to Mickey’s upper back, his right hand winding on his whole lower back almost lifting his body off the floor. Mickey arches his body, his hand carding in Ian’s hair, gripping on the strands near his nape, holding Ian’s head in place.

**_"Happy New Year!"_ **

They kissed each other until the sound around them became a buzzing sound, until both of them could only feel the warmth emitting off their bodies, until their breathing each other’s air, until they became one again.

Mickey pulled back, Ian reaching for his lips as his face moved away from him.

“Mick.” Ian presses their forehead together. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mickey closes his eyes and tilts his head up, kissing Ian’s nose. 

“It’s okay. Everything is okay now.”

“Yeah?” Ian exhales.

“Uh huh.” Mickey makes a slight nod, his forehead slipping a bit from Ian’s.

“You still mad at me?” Ian purses his lip and pecks Mickey’s upper lip.

“Yes.”

“You still love me?” Ian entwines their hands together, rubbing his thumbs at the back of Mickey's hand.

Mickey finally opens his eyes and looks back at Ian, “Yes.”

Ian smiles, linking his hands behind Mickey’s lower back. He lowers his face and properly kisses his boyfriend’s mouth. 

Around them, people are singing that familiar song that everyone knows so well. But at this moment, there is only one thing Ian had been waiting to say to Mickey for days. And he thinks, maybe even knows, Mickey had also been waiting to hear it from him.

Ian murmured on their pressed lips, “I so fucking love you Mickey Milkovich. Happy New Year, my love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***first, i want to apologize for the longish wait. i was distracted with writing sth else and well, real life came in the way. i believe this is the longest chapter so far, and the next coming ones are probably this long or longer.  
> ***second, thank you to all of you who have kept reading my wip. wow. WOW! i'm over the moon with the people who loved my baby. love you back, sweets! you don't know how y'all make me happy.  
> ***third, i wanna make a shout out to my gc girls who always have my back. you guys always keep me motivated even tho you know i'm a BIG procrastinator and whiner! sorry not sorry, and i lub you back. cheers to my beta, pam. thank you, thank you, thank you for tolerating my crazy.  
> ***lastly, brownie points to anyone who can name the movie where i got the inspo from for the ending...ha!


	23. Are You Ready To Jump?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if given a chance, will you grab the opportunity of a lifetime with the promises of a better life in the future or stay in the comfort of what is familiar and safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we only die once, I wanna die with you.  
> If we only live once, I wanna live with you.
> 
> \- Something I Need by OneRepublic

January 3, 2017

10:02 AM

“Thank you for calling. Goodbye.”

Elena puts her mobile on top of the table calmly, her eyes lifting from her phone up to her son, who is standing by the kitchen counter humming a tune, his eyes looking outside the window, facing the beach. 

They had just returned from Italy yesterday, Ernie even saying that their stay in Elena’s ancestral home, spending the holidays with her family has been the most enjoyable week he’s had for years. She had fun naturally, having had only seen her family all together like that when her father died a few years ago. Elena was only slightly perturbed when Ian said he would rather be with his friends on new year’s eve, then come with them, but the idea of him being with Olivia to welcome the coming year soothed her worry. 

She continued watching her son, who had now walked towards the large window wall facing the horizon, the sun shining bright on his profile. He seemed to be glowing, like the sun was looking for him, waiting on him to go out so it could send him the brightest beam of light and envelope his body, making him shine. 

He was smiling at nothing, his face showing such serenity that Elena was afraid he'd start floating, feet lifting off the floor, hands and feet spread out, his body flying towards the source of light.

“Ian.” Elena called out his son’s name, disrupting his tranquility.

“Hmm?” Ian responds perfunctorily.

“Did you have fun in New York?”

He turned his head towards his mother, who was sitting at the beige Bergere Occasional chair placed on the left side of their off white Pepperell Chesterfield rolled arm sofa. She had her legs crossed on the knee, one over the other.

“Yeah,” Ian can’t keep himself from smiling, the memories of that night making him so very warm again in spite of the chilly weather. He walked over to the side of the couch closest to his mother and slumped on the soft cushion. Ian pinched his lower lip with his thumb and index finger, trying to make his face less excited, somewhat apathetic. “Uh huh, I had fun with my friends, mom. Thanks for asking.” He continued, tilting his head to the side, and found his mother’s intriguing eyes looking back at him.

“Hmm, that’s nice. I forgot to ask you,” Elena casually extended her arm to the side table, her hand wrapping around a glass of orange juice. She brings it to her tinted lips and takes a sip before saying, “Which hotel did you and Olivia stay at that night?”

Ian scoots his ass to the right, his arms crossing in front of him. “We uhm.. We checked in at the Knickerbocker.”

“Oh they had available rooms that evening? Did you call Stephen? Your father always asks for him when we have to make a last minute booking.”

He shrugged, angling his body to the other side of the couch, lifting his left leg off the floor, tucking it under his right thigh. “No, I..” Ian rolled his shoulders, stretching the side of his neck “just went to the desk and asked for the available suite they have.”

“Olivia stayed for the night?”

“She.. she actually went with her friends. I think,” Ian fidgets on the hems of his shirt, “she spent the night with them.”

“I thought you were together the whole night?” She places the glass on the Simon Pearce woodbury glass coaster, the motion making a faint clicking sound. 

“We sort of..” Ian bites the inside of his cheeks, “got separated during the night. Hakeem's girlfriend introduced her to some of her friends and she went with them, going around the club and I sort of lost her.”

“But you did check up on her later, right? Made sure she was alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure did. I texted Hakeem and asked if she was with them, and she was.”

“You’re perfectly fine with Olivia spending more time with other people than yourself on new year’s eve?” Elena quirked an eyebrow, placing both her hands on the tops of her thighs. “She is your fiancè, Ian.”

Ian sighs and flicks his fingers into an invisible lint on his thigh, “I heard some of my friends are at a nearby hotel, I thought it would be a good idea to drop by just to say hi.” 

“Which friends?”

“These guys I met on my birthday a few months ago.”

Ian felt his ears burning, the skin on his arms forming tiny lumps, the minute hair follicles contracting, pushing the golden bronze hair on his forearms and knuckles to stand up.

“New friends then?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“It’s a shame we don’t get to meet these new friends of yours, Ian. Maybe a small get together during your spring break? Your father and I would like to meet your new friends in New York and in school. It would be wonderful to finally get a face from the names in your stories.” 

“Yeah, sure mom. That’s a good idea. Uhm,” He unfolds his left leg underneath his right thigh, inching his butt off the couch, “I need to pack.” slapping his hands on his lap, “Yeah, me and Johnson need to leave early tomorrow for New Haven. So I, uhm..” he stands up hurriedly, “See you later, mom.” Ian kissing his mother’s cheek. “You guys have lunch without me, I’ll just grab something later when I’m done.” 

Elena leans on the soft kiss on her cheeks, her hand reaching out to cup Ian’s jaw. “Okay, Ian. Don’t forget that we have to go to the Henrick’s this evening for dinner. We’ll be leaving before six. Olivia’s family will be there as well.”

Ian felt a sudden panic creeping up on him, like somebody opened all the windows of their house and the cold air from the outside breezed directly towards his body, enveloping him. He slowly straightened up and stood awkwardly in front of his mother, “I’ll… yeah. Can’t wait to see everybody later.”

“Ian.” Elena’s tone was gentle, raising an eyebrow “You do plan on coming tonight, am I right?”

“Yes, there’s just a bit of stuff I need to sort out in my room. I… also haven’t really gotten any rest after that short trip to Manhattan.” Ian brings his hand to his mouth, faking a yawn. “I’ll be ready later, mom. Don’t worry.” 

She gives her son a small smile, reaching out to his hand, brushing her thumb over his wrist. “Alright. See you later, son.”

“Yeah, later.”

Several hours later into the day, Ian sits on a huge dining room table, looking impassively with a lot of people that he’d known all his life, telling stories of way past when or what is there to come. For the company, for his future, as the son of Ernest Gallagher and the fiancè of Olivia Scharzman. With the life that they thought Ian wanted, with Olivia by his side, him holding her hand while the other holds a flute of his second glass of champagne. He would sometimes smile and smile and smile like he means it, like he wanted everything and anything they’ve said, even if his heart and mind is somewhere else, somewhere happy and warm in New York. To the man he’d always wanted, wanted to smile and smile and smile with, with him holding his hand while the other is moving animatedly in front of him, telling stories of way back when and what is there to come for them. For his life, for his future, as the son of Ernest and Elena Gallagher and lover and partner of Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.

January 4, 2017

12:13 PM

“Are you serious? You think this is funny?”

“What? What did I do?” Mickey blinked at Sophia who is now looking at him with wild eyes, nose flaring, mouth almost frothing with rage and frustration, or maybe just antiquated jealousy. 

“You got the extra credit again! Again, Mickey.” Sophia index finger incessantly taps on the enclosed large rectangular cork bulletin board outside room 314 where the results of their midterms exams which were just posted. “This is your third time, _Mikhailo_ and it’s honestly fucking getting ridiculous that it’s always just you who gets the answers right.” She swings her arms to her sides in exasperation, body twisting, accidentally hitting Alice on the head.

“What the fuck, Soph?” Alice slaps her friend’s hand away from her when Sophia tries to counter by rubbing the right side of her head where she had hit her. 

Sophia says a silent sorry to Alice then turns to Mickey, eyes refocusing, like she’s about to pounce him, “Tell me, Mick. Do you have any insider information of what Professor O’Brien will give in the prelims?” she takes a step closer to him, both hands to her hips. 

Mickey’s somewhat petrified gaze looks down approximately five inches down to his fuming friend’s face. He’s trying so hard not to smile, Mickey biting the inside of his cheeks to prevent his lips from making the mistake of upturning to the sides. Alice on the other hand decides at that moment to just leave them, making a small wave at Mickey as she passes them by. Sophia barely looked at her, just continued to glare at him with so much intensity she was looking crazy right now that he had to try harder, maybe slightly inflicting pain upon himself, to just put more pressure, maybe to even break a little bit of skin on the inside his cheeks just so he wouldn’t laugh.

“Jesus fuck, Mick.” Sophia takes another step towards Mickey, their feet already touching. She tilts her face up at her best friend who she knows for sure is trying to stifle a smile or a giggle with how silly his face looks right now. And Sophia is anything but seething. “It’s another C for me, for sure. I’m gonna get another C, fuck! “

Mickey took a step back and stretched his arms over his head, hooking his hands on his neck, pursing his lips. “How in the hell would I know?” his brows furrowing, “We are in the same class, okay? I even taught you how to do the equations for the quadratic function for hours. C’mon Soph, we worked on that for two nights.”

“Even the fucking parabola shit? Mick, that was supposed to be for our finals. Literally on the last few chapters of our fucking textbook!”

“Look,” Mickey stood up from the wall where he was suddenly leaning at with how much he had backed away from his friends and turned his body in a complete 180, walking away from the crowd of people who started swarming on the bulletin board to look at their grades. But honestly, he was mostly just walking away from his friend Sophia, who is looking at him like he grew another head. “I skim through the next topics sometimes. And also, you know I’ve always been good with math.” his legs making long strides towards the stairs.

“Are you for real?” Sophia blurted out, her feet shuffling to catch up to Mickey. She grabbed her friend’s biceps making him turn around. “Who in their right mind reads in advance for college fucking algebra!”

“I do that shit, Sophia. C’mon it’s not a big deal”

“Not a big… and by the way mister ‘I’ve always been good with math’, acing the exams once is good, but acing every test and exercise, making Professor O’Brien’s short list for possible TA next semester and not to mention recommending you for an internship at Gensler once we graduate is not just _good_ , Mick. You are a fucking killing it for this semester and we’re only in our first year!”

Mickey shushes her as he pulls her to an empty classroom, “Jesus Christ, Sophia Grace. Will you shut up? No one is supposed to know about that.”

“Wha…” Sophia’s brows sat up, her index finger poking at the center of his chest. “Why the heck are you calling me Sophia Grace for, Mikhailo?” 

He lightly shoves her finger away, Mickey saying in a hushed tone, “Do you know how many are trying to get that internship every year? Hundreds, Soph.” he pinches his bridge of his nose, “I fucking got lucky with that, okay? I still couldn’t believe Conrad..” Mickey shook his head.

“Conrad? You telling me you guys are on a first name basis now?”

“Shit, no.” he turned away from Sophia then rubbed his face, “Okay, fine. Yes.” he huffs, making an about face, his hands going on top of his hips, “Mr. O’Brien wanted, actually suggesting that I start calling him that. He said it would build my confidence in front of other people, like with older, rich, successful folks and not get intimidated by them.”

“Alright, that is a smart suggestion actually.”

“And, he sort of offered to mentor me for the rest of my stay here in City Tech.”

“Holy fuck, that’s huge Mick.” Sophia taps him hard on the shoulder making him wince. 

“It is and,” he leans his back on the wall, dropping his backpack on the floor, his head hanging low to his chest, “I am considering doing double duty courses to finish early.”

“That’s…” Sophia walks in front of her friend and rubs his hand holding the straps of his blue JanSport. “great, Mick. I’m sure among all of us, you’re the one who could do it.”

“You can come with me, like both of us can graduate early?” Mickey looked at Sophia from beneath his lashes, “you can come with me, Soph.” 

She tutted then sighed, “I’m not nearly as smart as you, Mick. Remember how you had to stay up with me for days just so I could get the slope-intersect..”

“Intercept.”

“Yeah, intercept. Whatever.” Sophia grunted. “Yeah, that. A week, Mick. You and Alice had to take turns showing me how to do it, and it's only you that can explain it to me without pulling my hair off.”

“You did good though, Soph. You got a B-, remember? You just had to be patient with it.”

“And that is what I know I lack with. Patience, Mick. I definitely do not have that.” she leans with him on the wall Mickey was slumped on to. “And obviously the smarts and this ridiculous innate loving relationship you have with math and numbers.” Sophia nudges him on the shoulder, making Mickey tilt his head to her who's looking at him with bright eyes and a smirk on her face. “You know I can’t come with you. It’s not possible.”

“But..”

“No, you listen to me. There’s a reason you had all these opportunities given to you. It’s all you, Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. You brave, clever, secret math wizard you who got out of the system, leaving his former life to live a new one in New York on his own, using his smarts and wits to survive in this big fucking crazy city. All you, Mick. No one else. So don’t you fucking dare pull back on anybody’s behalf just to stay here ‘cause imma drag your white pasty ass out of the city if I have to make you realize there’s so much more you can do out there with that brain of yours and not get stuck here being a nobody.”

“Soph, but what if I can’t? What if this is just dumb luck and not because of my skills, my mind?”

She grits her teeth then stomps on Mickey toes with her cherry red Doc Martens.

“Motherfucker!” Mickey yelps, lifting his injured right foot off the floor. “Is that even necessary, Sophia?”

“Are you not listening to me, Mickey? Seize the fucking day. Yolo, god damn it.”

“Huh?” he hops with his left foot, cradling his right foot by the soles of his shoes, “What the hell are you talking about Yolo?”

“Trust me, you need to learn how to yolo.”

“What the fuck does yolo have to do with breaking somebody’s toes, Sophia?” He yells at her, still holding his right foot. 

“If you want to get ahead from everybody, you have to yolo and don’t ever look back.” She pulls his backpack from the floor and swings it to her shoulder. “C’mon whiny pants. Let’s get you to the nurse then I’ll make your emails for the counselors. You still got Jason’s number right?”

Mickey rubbed his foot, wiggling it from side to side before planting it on the floor. He presses the balls of his feet on his shoes and spreads all his toes, making sure the circulation in his extremities, especially his injured foot is intact. 

He flexes his jawline, raising an eyebrow then purses his lips. ”Yeah, why?”

“Because I, meaning you, Mickey will be sending him an email to make an appointment to move all your classes around so you could be done with school in two years. And then you, meaning me, will be working his ass off to make sure you will not get any distractions and stick with the plan for the next two years. _Capisce?_ ”

Mickey snorted, “When did you become this Italian mob boss woman that gets to order me around like I’m her bitch?”

Sophia exhaled then muttered, hooking her arm under Mickey’s elbow, “I don’t order you around, idiot.” dragging his body by his arm out of the deserted room, “I just tell you what I think you need to do to make things happen. You’re a little slow sometimes and it’s making me antsy.” She points a finger at herself, “Impatient remember?”

Mickey grinned at her, a small shallow dimple popping out from his cheek, “I know. It wouldn’t be you if I didn’t hear your voice bossing people around, telling them which works best for whom. I appreciate you, Soph. You know this right?”

She rests her head on Mickey’s shoulders as they walk out of the room towards the stairs, her hazel eyes crinkling on the sides as she smiles widely at him. “Uh huh. And I appreciate you back, homie.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here and make the emails you want.” 

The trip to the nurse was uneventful, with her just asking Mickey a lot of questions and if he is in fact still in pain. Mickey admits, the pain had subsided significantly in the last few minutes and all she suggested for him to do is take a couple of Tylenol and observe the size and color of his toes, if there will be some noticeable changes or not. They both thanked her for her time and promised that no one from them will be stomping somebody’s toes anymore just to prove a point. 

They walked hand in hand out to the lobby of the building, taking two steps at a time going down the stairs until they reached the front doors then walked out of the building. The chilly air of the early afternoon suddenly hit their exposed faces upon stepping out from the doorway, their bodies started shivering, both moving closer to each other. 

Mickey pulled Sophia towards his body, his right arm winding on her back to her sides, just below her ribcage. Sophia snuggled to his armpits, her hand clutching the middle of Mickey’s jacket, her head resting on chest. 

The subway is about a seven minute walk from City Tech, and the winter weather in New York is anything but brutal that the cold air seeps steadily into their thick jackets making both of them shiver, limbs shaking, trying to generate as much heat that they’re not getting enough from each other’s body heat. It’s a good thing that he’s with Sophia, with her short body curling up to him, their bodies so close together, that there is a somewhat warmth emitting from her making the walk at the sidewalk going to the train not that miserable. 

Both were laughing, shouting words at each other beneath the scarves wrapped around their necks, their teeth chattering nonstop, but their spirits high with the many possibilities coming in Mickey's life. And Mickey knows, he is quite certain that his boyfriend back in New Haven loves him, cares for him, and he will be talking to him later in the day, because Mickey had to tell him the news, his plans, and he doesn’t think, he believes nothing will bring him down with all these people around him, loving and caring for him in this life that he built on his own, in this big fucking crazy city he had called home for three years. 

He hopes Ian will be as excited as Soph is, as excited as him, because he can’t wait for things to move forward, and make it faster, so he can stop being a nobody and start calling people older than him, more successful and more powerful than him, the folks with the money by their first names as if they were equal, as if he were them. 

Sophia bumps his hip, ending his momentary daydreaming. He looks down, seeing his friend’s big, bright eyes gazing up on him, her nose and cheeks bright pink from the chilly air around them, “We’re here.” jutting her face forward, “You think I can walk with you when you get to the turnstile. I forgot my Metrocard and I don’t want to buy another one when I have $30 in my old one.”

“Yeah, sure Soph. I’ll just let you jump over the turnstile later. No one would notice.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“Soph,” he slides his arm from her waist to her left hand, which was shoved inside his jean back pocket, bringing it between them. “as long as you’re with me, anything is possible.”

She arched her thin eyebrows, giving him a lopsided smile, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Calm down, Mikhailo. You say that now, but when you’re already a big shot architect, I’m sure you’ll forget about me.”

He kisses the top of her head, pulling her closer to him, “Nope, not possible. You’re part of my inner circle now, stupid. You leaving that circle is not possible.”

“Hhhmmm, does this circle involve a huge glass of iced coffee and cheese pizza?”

Mickey cackled loudly, his body began shaking, Sophia joining him a second later, laughing lightly. 

“Why does every scenario have to have pizza in it?” 

“Because pizza is life, Mickey. Duh?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grins, pulling Sophia’s hand as they walk down the stairs to the second level for the L train. Mickey brings out his wallet and whips out his Metrocard, “Also you are the only person I know who enjoys drinking iced coffee during winter. I would never understand that.”

“What’s so bad about that? I just like my coffee cold okay.”

Mickey shakes his head, swiping his card to the card-reader, and hears a soft clicking sound as he leans his body on the turnstile.

“You ready to jump?” He turns to his friend.

Sophia licked her lips, her eyes swiftly scanning the area. She cocks her head to the side then smiles wickedly at Mickey, “You betcha.” 

May 6, 2017

6:45 AM

Ian folds another long sleeved Henley shirt up and puts it on top of his denim shorts, a lightweight hooded rain jacket, just in case it rains, together with a couple of white cotton short sleeved shirts and his brown khakis. 

It is exactly three days before his birthday, and he plans on spending the weekend somewhere calm and serene, where there is large grassland, like a place where you can find a hill or a mountain, or probably a lake or river, or maybe even a farm or a field or pasture, where the smell is thick with life and earth. Ian could imagine the scenery, a few animals would graze and walk about the land, and it would be incredible, majestic even to see them, maybe even touch them if the owners would allow them. 

He was wearing his blue and white three-fourths sleeve Raglan shirt over his black Nike woven running pants with his iron grey Nike Air VaporMax 360 that he thought would be a smart outfit to wear for the day, since Ian intends on spending the whole day, actually the whole trip outdoors. Most of the clothes he brought were light, very comfortable and can easily be discarded, maybe taken off if they wanted to take a dip in a lake or river somewhere. He gathers all the items that he felt essential to bring on this short trip and places it inside his chestnut tan overnight leather duffel bag, making sure he has his wallet and keys with him as he walks out of his apartment.

It was in the middle of spring, where there’s a hint of coldness in the air. The sky alternating from bright and shiny, having this baby blue hue to soft royal blue, the horizon filled with puffy cumulus clouds filtering the blazing rays of the sun, thus making the world look cozy and warm. 

The day is perfect for long walks, maybe even a ride on a bicycle somewhere scenic, where there are no tall buildings, no cars or buses polluting the streets. No people walking fast on the sidewalks, some going to the subway or their workplaces, maybe even to their homes. Just a vast land filled with trees and grass, maybe even some farm animals that would look at him... them as they paddled along the path enjoying this beautiful day.

Johnson was leaning on the hood of the car, his legs crossed in front of him, both hands shoved inside his jeans as he waited for Ian to cross the street from the apartment complex. Ian checks on the time and sees there’s roughly nine more minutes to spare, and he and Johnson can quickly grab something from McDonalds on the way to the subway. 

The plan was to drop Johnson at the Amtrak and use the car to drive to Elsewhere, New Jersey. It would take him roughly two hours and Mickey, coming from Manhattan, will probably be at their meeting place in under an hour. They had carefully orchestrated this trip under hushed correspondence over the last couple of weeks. 

Johnson was the middle man, always the middle man that had sent text messages to Mickey and Sophia just in case his mother, who surprisingly visits him at Yale several times, even randomly in the past few months, was with him. Or when he was with his friends, who always teases and interrogates him when he suddenly smiles at the screen of his phone whenever Mickey sends him a photo of himself or with his group of friends studying or eating out in downtown Manhattan.

Ian had told his friends that he signed up for an off road riding clinic in New Jersey, a place that he googled one night, saying this place could be great for him to practice his cycling skills, maybe even try to train there as a duathlete since he also loved running. He told them it was a last minute thing, deciding to register a week prior to the actual two-day session. 

Hakeem had offered to come with him, telling Ian that training with a friend would be more enjoyable, since his girlfriend was in California for a photoshoot and he’s got the whole weekend alone, with no particular plans for the next few days. Eleejah on the other hand, asked him where the exact bike trail is, telling Ian that a change in venue and course would be a good training place for her and Anna too, since they plan on joining the New York Road Runners marathon in the summer. 

_“Is Johnson coming with you?” Eleejah asks Ian once Hakeem left to go to the restroom._

_“Yeah, he’ll be driving me to Jersey.” Ian takes a bite of his chicken burrito, munching on the rolled up sandwich casually._

_“You guys staying in a hotel or something?” She cocks her head to the side, crossing her left leg over her right, “or are you staying at a friend’s place?”_

_“Uhm, no.” He dabs a napkin over his lips, “Yes, I actually booked a room. Johnson will be going back to Harlem to his family via the Amtrak then I’ll drive the car to Jersey then back here Monday morning.”_

_“Oh.” Eleejah curls her fingers on her bottle of water, “So you’re going alone then?”_

_“Yeah.” Ian glanced up at his friend who’s looking at him with a small smile on her lips. He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting his eyes at her._

_“Our class doesn’t start until after lunch. You have a lot of time to be going solo in Jersey then, Ian.” she snickers, “Isn’t Tuesday your birthday?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_She sighs, tilting the bottle of water to her mouth and takes a drink. “Ian, when are you going to tell us about your friend in New York?”_

_Ian blinked at his friend “Excuse me?”_

_“I said,” Eleejah let’s the words hang in the air before continuing, “When are you going to tell us about your friend that you kissed at Moxy’s New Year’s eve, Ian.”_

_Ian’s body stiffened, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. His eyes looked around them, making sure no one was listening or was paying attention to them. Ian leaned forward, placing both his elbows on top of his thighs. He took a long breath, his chest expanding, shoulders rising up a few inches, before releasing the air from his lungs slowly through his slightly opened mouth. He flicked his eyes to his friend, “You saw me?” Ian said lowly, his voice almost a whisper._

_“Anna has an apartment at 8th Avenue. She’s been going to Moxy for years, may have even worked there one summer, I’m not sure.” Eleejah places her bottle of water on top of the table, her index and middle finger unconsciously tapping the sides of it, the half empty bottle wiggling, “But that night, you were supposed to be at the Knickerbocker with Olivia and Hakeem, right? Imagine our surprise when we saw you there, practically pushing people out of your way to get to this guy, who we surely saw was dancing with another man a few minutes before you came rushing in the club that night.”_

_Ian’s hands clenched on top of his thighs, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He bit his lower lip then huffed, “Does anyone know? Hakeem… does he know?”_

_“No.”_

_“What does Hakeem not know?” at that moment, Hakeem rounded the table coming from the restroom, pulling the chair beside Ian, “Is there something I should know?”_

_Eleejah stares at Ian for a few seconds, her left eyebrow raising a bit, holding his eyes a few moments before turning her gaze to her brother, a smile splaying on her lips, “I was just asking Ian if you knew about this intimate party he’s throwing himself on Tuesday for his birthday.”_

_“Oh fuck, yeah. I was waiting on you to say something, man. So, nineteen!” Hakeem pats Ian on the shoulder, “Hey, that deserves a party.”_

_“Not like I’m turning 21, man.” He sighs, rolling his shoulder backwards. Ian looked nervously at Eleejah, his right leg bouncing nonstop._

_“But it still calls for a celebration, Ian.” Hakeem grins at him._

_“Sure.” he replied back._

_“Alright, that’s cool.” She winks at her brother then brings the bottle of water to her mouth, taking a huge gulp. “So we're done here, boys?” standing up abruptly from her chair, swinging her messenger bag over her shoulders. She glanced quickly at Ian, “You cool?” Eleejah stared firmly at Ian, her eyes looking genuinely concerned. She smiles after a few seconds then said, “Just text me what your plans are for your birthday, ‘kay? And don’t forget to drop the name of… that place you’re going to in Jersey.”_

_Hakeem shrugs, places his elbows at the edge of the table, his Blackberry already on his hand, probably composing a message for somebody who had texted him._

_Ian’s right leg continues to bounce, the heel of his Chelsea boots making tapping sounds on the ground. He tipped his head up, eyes looking straight ahead at Eleejah’s face. They never broke the stare even as she took a couple of steps towards him. She tilted her head sideways, placing a hand on his shoulders, “We’re cool, Ian.” she smiles, “We can talk about that later.”_

_“Hakeem.” She called out to her brother, “I’ll see you in the apartment later.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” his eyes still glued to his phone, “See you later, sis.”_

_Eleejah waved at them and continued walking out of the restaurant, not looking back. Ian found himself dumbstruck, his left hand clenching and unclenching on his thighs. He was looking at the ground, the palm of his right hand pressing on his right knee, trying to stop his leg from bouncing. Hakeem finishes sending the message from his phone, dropping it on top of the table before turning to him._

_“So what about this intimate party?”_

It took him one hour and forty eight minutes, seventeen minutes under from what he had previously calculated to get to Jersey. He was expecting Mickey to be arriving in twenty minutes, his train making two stops until he gets to Elsewhere. Ian sighed happily as he turned off the engine, his hands trembling with excitement as he took the keys off from the ignition.

The last time he had seen Mickey was two days after Valentine’s day, when Mickey had suddenly come over to his apartment in the middle of the night, complete with a disguise and making Johnson his accomplice.

_It had been a long day, Ian spending most of it studying for his Econometrics class. Johnson was the one who opened the door, who made an exasperated sigh as he let a man in. The man was wearing a red cap, pulled down low on his face, a red short sleeved collared shirt, complete with a name tag pinned on his right chest. He was holding a huge pizza box and a bottle of wine, which to anybody who might have seen him, would look suspicious since Pizza Hut would never deliver wine with their pizzas._

_Ian had called out from his room when he heard the buzzing sound from his intercom, saying he never ordered anything and wasn’t expecting any delivery. Johnson grinned at Ian and told him he was the one who ordered food for them._

_Johnson had said, “Trust me, you’ll like what I ordered.”_

_The moment the guy walked in his apartment, Ian knew there was something off about him. He was holding a bottle of Merlot in his hands, walked directly to the living room, like he had known the place. Ian followed his every move as he opened the box of pizza that he had placed on top of the center table in the living room._

_“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ian blurted out, forehead wrinkling with confusion._

_“Sir,” he drawled, angling the box to Ian so he could see what’s inside of it, “this is a special delivery for you” The guy said slowly, as Ian walked over to look inside the box. It contained a single family sized pizza, all the pepperoni slices arranged in the middle of the baked dough forming a large heart._

_Ian stared at the pizza then whipped his head to the guy, his eyes almost bulging out from its sockets when the man slowly took his cap off. A small gasp escaped his lips when he realized the delivery guy was Mickey._

_“Holy shit.” he exhaled._

_Mickey snickered, stretching out his hands to him, holding the box of pizza. “You don’t like it?”_

_He looked at Mickey then to Johnson who was leaning at the awning of the room, his arms crossed in front of his chest._

_“It’s his brilliant idea, Ian. Not mine.”_

_“Fuck, how... when?” Ian struggled to say as he took the box from his boyfriend’s hands and tossed it back at the center table, making a clunking sound. He grabbed Mickey by the waist and looked down on him smiling. “I can’t believe you’re here and got Johnson as your accomplice.”_

_Mickey beamed at Ian, placing both his hands on his biceps. “I figured Johnson could keep a secret and not tell you I’m coming over to spend our first valentine together.”_

_Ian ran a finger on Mickey’s nameplate. He grins “Where the hell did you get this?”_

_Mickey bites his lips, trying to stop himself from smiling. He pursed his lips, eyes going down on his body, “You like my uniform?” Mickey asks, “I had to borrow these last minute from Bill.”_

_“Fuck it. I have to thank Bill again for his tenacious work ethic. That man deserves a god damn rest for the many jobs he’s had all throughout his life.”_

_Mickey’s eyes sparkled, eyes getting rounder as he speaks, “Thank Bill and not me for planning this romantic gesture? How rude of you.”_

_Ian pulled Mickey’s body closer to him and laughed, “Baby, this is some massive ‘I wanna show how I love my boyfriend’ kind of shit you just pulled here.” He pecks his nose, “thank you, Mickey.”_

_Johnson grunts and pushes himself off the wall, “And with that, I’m leaving. You guys enjoy the night, ‘kay.” he walked out of the room, then went to his room at the other end of the apartment, closing the door behind him._

_The thing is, Ian was already planning on going to Manhattan a few days prior, wanting to surprise his boyfriend for their first valentine together, but Olivia insisted for him to go with her to this sweetheart’s ball that her sorority had organized. And of course, it wouldn’t look good if they didn’t go, more so if they weren’t seen together in the event. Reluctantly, if not for appearance’s sake, he said yes and had one of the most tiresome nights he’s ever had since he decided to agree in whatever charade Olivia wanted him to be part of._

_But Mickey’s sweet romantic surprise that night, totally obliterated the feeling he had at that party. The way he longed to be somewhere else, dancing to sappy love songs, with a suit on, holding another person’s hand and not his faux fiancè Olivia._

_They had spent the whole night together curled up on Ian’s bed, eating the ridiculously greasy and decorated pizza, making love under the moonlight, only sleeping when the soft rays of the sun shone down on their naked bodies the next morning._

_Mickey had left the next day around lunchtime, Ian driving him to the train, their faces hurting with how much they were smiling and giggling the whole time they were together._

There is a slow, harsh sound of a heavy metallic machine inching its way forward that disrupted Ian’s thoughts. The shrill noise coming from it, its wheels rocking back and forth until it finally stopped, completely making Ian’s heart beat faster, the hair on his arms raising with anticipation. He wanted to keep his cool, act nonchalant by staying inside his car and not welcome Mickey by the entrance of the train station. But his feet seemed to have a mind of his own, even his hands conspiring with them, suddenly opening the door of the car, his legs swinging out, feet moving, walking to the doors of the train station, until he found himself a few feet away from the magnificent beast of machine in front of him, keeping the love of his life inside of it. 

The doors of the train slowly ease open, the station guard calling out that they have arrived at the train’s destination and all the travelers who are meant to get down from the carriage have about ten minutes to move until they have to depart. There were a few people coming out, some rolling their carry-on luggage, a few got their large traveling bags with their children in tow. 

Ian stretches his neck, body straining by standing on his toes, his eyes weaving through the people walking out from the doors of the carriages. It had been four minutes since the train had parked momentarily in the station, and the familiar mop of hair, that compact, lean musculature that his boyfriend possesses, he still hasn’t found from the bodies moving about in front of him. 

A few moments later, just when Ian decided to go directly to the doors of the train to find Mickey, he saw one fellow who had his head down, eyes somewhat glued on the phone in his hands, stepping down from the second to the last carriage. He was wearing black denims, a blue and green plaid shirt, sleeves folded up to the distal part of his forearms, a purple V neck shirt peeking from underneath his unbuttoned plaid long sleeved shirt. The guy also had a pair of beige, almost yellow Timberlands on, which laces are undone on the last two holes of the boots, the strings hanging through on each side of the shoe. On his right shoulder hangs one of the straps of an old blue JanSport which Ian is positive has a broken lock, that’s why the only thing connecting it from the body of the bag is a bowline knot that he himself tied at the ends of the straps. But the guy was wearing glasses, which somehow confused Ian, because he was sure, and quite certain, that the person he was looking at is Mickey.

“Mick?” he blurts out loudly, making some of the passengers whip their heads at him. 

The guy slowly raises his head, the characteristic crinkly eyed smile that Ian loves, always loved splayed on his face as his incandescent blue eyes saw him. At that moment, Ian hears a pinging sound coming out from his Blackberry that he purposely ignored.

_Fuck, it’s really him._

“Hi.” the man with the glasses said as he strode towards him. He was looking at Ian with a puzzled look in his eyes, brows creasing deeply in the middle of his forehead, mouth pouting. He waves a hand in front of Ian’s face, “Are you okay?” the Mickey look-alike says.

“It is you.” Ian gasped, eyes going wide as his mind realizes who this person is in front of him.

“Yes, Ian. It is I.” his voice lilting a bit when he uttered the last word. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

“What the hell is that?” Ian pointed at Mickey's face.

“They are called glasses, Ian. Haven’t you ever seen them before?” 

“I have, Jesus Christ.” He grabs the bag from Mickey’s shoulder, sliding it gently down his arm, as he keeps staring at his face, “But why are you wearing them now?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be wearing them?” Mickey snorts, “Okay, but before you ask if I got these to make me look stylish or whatever, the answer is no. These are actual prescription glasses, alright.” he simply said like it answered all the questions in Ian’s mind.

He thumbed the corner of Mickey’s cheek, angling his body towards him. They walked side by side out of the lobby at the train station, Ian hiking up the strap of Mickey’s backpack on his shoulder. “But you never told me you needed them. This is the first time I’m hearing that you actually needed glasses, Mickey.”

“I have been having trouble with my eyes for some time now.” Mickey pushes the bridge of his matte black rimmed glasses “Remember the headaches I’ve been telling you about, it’s because of my eyes.” 

Ian smirked at Mickey, “It’s your age. You’re getting awfully old now.” he playfully elbows him, earning him a shove, Ian almost stumbling when their feet bumped into each other. He corrects his footing, his hand gripping instinctively on Mickey’s hip. They laughed as they trotted, hand in hand down the stairs out to the streets where Ian parked his car. 

He notices a white plastic bag on his boyfriend’s left hand, “What’s that?” 

“Huh?” Mickey takes an uneasy breath, twisting his arm to his back.

“Mick, what are you hiding?”

He brings his arm out from his back and flips his hand, the small box inside the plastic bag shifting. “It’s uhm, your gift.” Mickey said with a shy smile.

“You got me a gift?” Ian excitedly said as they stood in front of his car, his hand wounding on Mickey’s left wrist, eyes looking fond on his face. “Hey, you shouldn't have.”

“It’s actually nothing.” He blushes, pushing his glasses up by the sides, the apples of his cheeks heating up. Mickey looked at their joined hands. “You’d probably think it’s stupid.”

“What? No, don’t say that.” Ian’s index and middle finger lifting Mickey’s chin up. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I will love it.”

Mickey tugs his lower lip in between his teeth, nibbling on the flesh until it turned dark pink. 

“Hey, stop that.” Ian brushes his thumb over his boyfriend’s mouth, tugging Mickey’s lower lip lightly until he releases his slightly swollen lower lip with a sigh. “I love you, Mick.” Ian leaned in, his eyes trying to catch Mickey’s eyes. “It’s really sweet of you to get me something for my birthday. Really, really sweet, baby.” He kisses his puckered lips. “Do you have any plans of when you’ll give it to me?”

“It’s really stupid.” Mickey whines. “I don’t even know if you want it.”

“You can show me now and I’ll decide if its stupid or not.” Ian rubbed a thumb on his wrists, “Okay?”

Mickey swallows and clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Here.” he lifts his hand with the plastic bag and hands it to Ian. “It's okay if you don’t actually want it.” 

Ian smiled and grabbed the bag from Mickey’s hand and pulled the small box out of it. The box is about 3 x 4 inches big, navy blue with a yellow bow tied around it. It is not small enough for Ian to think that Mickey gave him a ring, and also not large enough for it to contain a watch or any jewelry. He shook the box on his hand, bringing it near his ear. Ian hears a soft thudding sound, like the thing inside of it is loose and not fixed, light enough that it would jiggle inside the hollow space of the box. He unties the yellow bow and slowly opens the box, his eyes not leaving Mickey’s face. When he flicked his gaze to what’s inside the box, he found a copper colored, metallic key sitting prettily at the center of it.

“What’s in this, Mickey?” Ian’s eyes widened.

“It’s uhm… it’s an extra key to my apartment. I was thinking, if you ever plan on coming over in Manhattan, you don’t have to stay outside in the hallway, making small talk with Timmy while you wait for me to come home. I mean, it’s nothing. Kind of silly, really. I just thought…”

Ian’s dropped the blue cardboard box on the ground, his thumb and index finger catching the singular key on his hand. His head dove in, catching Mickey’s still moving mouth, sucking the words out of his lips. He slid his hand at his boyfriend's back, pulling his warm body towards him, the key digging on Mickey’s lower back. Ian nibbled on his lips, swallowing Mickey’s unspoken words, a faint groan can be heard from the back of his throat, his eyeglasses fogging up with their warm breaths. Ian tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, his free hand sliding up, cupping Mickey’s jaw to keep his head in place. 

Mickey opened his mouth, letting Ian’s tongue dart in, licking into the inseam of his lower lip. He exhales into the kiss, nipping on Ian’s upper lip as he pulls back slowly. Mickey smiled softly, certain that his glasses looked lopsided right now, but he didn't care, didn't even mind, as he basked in the warm feeling of their pressed, flushed lips.. 

They leaned their foreheads together, Ian pursing his lips, trying to catch Mickey’s plumped ones.

“I gather, you liked my gift?” Mickey rasped.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” Mickey smirked, “I think you liked it, yeah.” 

Ian rubbed the tips of their noses, Mickey’s glasses rising a bit, the smiles on their faces getting bigger, wider. 

He laughed softly, “I love it.” he kisses Mickey’s cheek, “I really love it.” pulling his boyfriend closer by his waist, “You do realize I will fucking use this key whenever I want, right?”

Mickey licked his lips, “Yeah. That was why I gave you the key, Ian.”

“Like even at night,” Ian said slowly, “when you’re fast asleep. I can easily sneak into your apartment without you knowing it.”

“I believe you now have the capacity to do that, yes.”

“My god, Mick. You have no idea how happy this makes me feel.”

Mickey hummed, “Knowing you love this idea and not find it weird makes me happy too.”

“Having free rein anytime into your apartment is never going to be weird to me, Mick. Fuck, you better have food regularly stocked in that apartment of yours baby, cause you’re gonna see me inside of it so often you’ll get tired of me.”

Mickey leaned back, and stared at Ian’s face with raised brows, “What makes you think I’ll get tired of you?” 

Ian bit his lip, then smirked “I’m just saying, the mere fact that I can randomly just pop into your apartment, anytime, whenever I want, is like a huge thing, Mick. I can’t believe you did this for me.” he tightened his hold on Mickey’s waist. “Why do you trust me so much? 

“I just do.” He pecked Ian’s lips, “And because I love you.” Mickey smiled brightly.

“I love you, too. And,” Ian held one of his hands up, “I solemnly swear that I will only use this key to do something good and whatever mischief I will bring into your apartment will be managed accordingly.”

“Did you just,” Mickey’s eyes crinkled, his mouth opening to a huge smile. He squeezed Ian’s biceps and laughed, “butcher a quote from Harry Potter, you dork!”

Ian giggled when Mickey pinched the inside of his arm, “Ouch, what? I know you love that movie.”

“And you just ruined it for me, you idiot.” Mickey’s face scrunched as he tried to pinch his boyfriend at random parts of his upper body. Ian backed away from him, taking a few steps laughing. 

“Stop, I swear..” He kept taking a step back, the side mirror hitting his left hip making him yelp. “Mick.” Ian grabbed one of Mickey’s hands that was about to poke him on the sensitive part of his waist. “Stop.” He pulled him into a hug, his hands wrapping on his wrists, putting their joined hands on his back. “Stop it.”

Mickey was heaving, his black rimmed glasses hanging in an odd angle on his face. His face was so flushed with amusement that he was practically glowing.

“You’re so lovely.” Ian whispered, leaning his face on Mickey’s hair, “So, so lovely.”

“You’re lovely too.” Mickey said softly on his boyfriend’s cheek, “So, so lovely too Ian.” 

Ian shut his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of Mickey. He wraps his arms around him, swaying their bodies minutely. Mickey pushed his face further into Ian’s neck, feeling the rhythmic beating of his pulse point on his cheek.

Ian sighed loudly, “We have two days, Mick.”

“I know.” Mickey murmured. “Two days.”

“I feel there’s always not enough time whenever I’m with you.” Ian tightened his hold on Mickey’s body, “You think we can ever have enough time again after this?”

 _No._ “Yeah.” Mickey pulling his head from Ian’s neck, “We’ll find a way. We always find a way somehow.”

Ian huffed a huge breath out from his nose, “Yeah, we do. We certainly do.” He held Mickey’s hand in between their bodies, his lips pursing before he spoke. “Are you excited to go camping?” 

“Hmm, yeah. Even brought my old sleeping bag and a couple of blankets.”

“Where we’re going we can rent some camping gear before we hike up the mountain. They have different sizes of tents, even a freezer chest for our food.” Ian clicks on the car keys and opens the door, “There’s a Trader Joe’s just around the corner, we can buy some food, coal and a couple of gallons of bottled water.” getting inside the driver’s seat, dropping Mickey’s backpack at the back with his duffel bag.

“So we’re going camping, huh?” Mickey asks, getting on the other side, closing the door gently as he sat on the passenger seat.

“Yup. You feel like sleeping under the stars tonight, Mick?” 

“Sleeping under the stars? Are you..” Mickey shook his head, rolling his eyes at Ian, “Have you ever gone camping, firecrotch? There’s a lot of wild animals and critters roaming around in the mountain, just in case you don’t know. You ready to fight off a big bad bear when it comes at our tent at night, genius?”

Ian groaned, “There’s not gonna be some big, bad bear or any bears out there, Mick. Jessuz.” He turns on the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot. “Where we’re going is a gated camp site, okay.”

“Gated doesn’t mean there’s not gonna be some animals out there, Ian.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of some deer or coyotes who are more afraid of us than we are of them, duh.”

Mickey held up his hands and started ticking his fingers as he spoke, “Deers, coyotes, wolves, mountain lions, snakes, bears. Hello, I could go on and..”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just..” Ian huffed out a breath, his gaze snapping at his boyfriend, before making a turn to the main road. He ran a hand through his hair, “This is supposed to be a romantic camping trip, Mickey.”

Mickey exhaled, dragging his tongue over his lower lip then tugged it in between his teeth. He smirked, tilting his head at Ian, batting his lashes. “You’ve seriously thought of this... This camping trip romantic? Seriously?”

“I just.. I just wanted us to have this, Mick. Since we can’t really go back to Shelter Island anytime soon.”

Mickey reached out to Ian, his hand going at the back of his neck. He stroked the ends of his hairline, his fingers gently massaging his nape. They were silent for a few minutes until Mickey let out a soft laugh making Ian turn his head from the road to him.

“Alright, Ian.” Mickey said slowly, “I can go camping.” He said while continuously rubbing his hand on Ian’s neck, “Just remembered the last time I went camping was when I was a cub scout in the fourth grade. Even had a bunch of adventure pins and shit.” 

“What?” Ian glanced back at Mickey, then back on the road, then back at Mickey. “You were a cub scout?”

“Eyes on the road, tiger.” Mickey grinned. “Yeah, from first grade to fourth. I stopped going when my mom died and had to move to another…” 

Ian dropped his right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on top of Mickey’s thigh. “I know, baby.” His thumb made circular motions on the side of his thigh, trying to soothe his boyfriend. “I bet you got a lot of patches, putting them all on your uniform.” He squeezes the inner part of his boyfriend’s thigh.

“Yeah, something like that.” Mickey brought his hand down to his thigh and clasped Ian’s hand, smiling underneath the rims of his glasses, as he glanced at Ian then looked out on the road.

They stayed like that, holding each other’s hands, Ian driving silently, while Mickey’s eyes were fixed firmly out from his window, softly humming a tune under his breath. The car is about to turn going to the only Trader Joe’s store in the city when Mickey spoke out.

“You never answered my question though.”

“Hhmm?”

Mickey turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You actually planned this trip, right?”

“Uh huh.” Ian’s head craned from side to side, trying to find a parking spot.

“Like have you ever, legitimately gone camping before? Cause sleeping in the wilderness is way different from staying in an Inn, Ian”

“Well, I’m sort of..” Ian said smiling, scratching the back of his head, as he eases the car slowly in a parking spot. “I was sort of an eagle scout before I graduated high school.”

“Seriously?” Mickey asked, staring at him wide eyed.

“Yeah.” Ian burrowed his eyebrows when he saw Mickey’s confused face. “What?”

“You know what.” Mickey’s mouth dropped open, releasing Ian’s hand from his grip. “Here I was all worried that you don’t know how dangerous it is out there and that maybe you were just curious about camping, but you’re actually fucking like Bear Grylls, Ian! A goddamn eagle!”

Ian stopped the car in front of the store and leaned his forehead at the steering wheel giggling, “Bear fucking Grylls, Mick?”

“Like, are you bringing me on a survival adventure kind of shit, man?” Mickey opens his side of the door and gets out of the car, slamming it shut. “Cause I will fucking push you off a cliff before you can whip out your army knife, Ian.” Mickey finishes saying, eyes glaring at him.

“Baby, are we seriously gonna fight about this, Mickey?” his eyes narrowing as he moves out of the car, “Mick.” Ian swung his arms, “Really?”

“I was almost bitten by a raccoon when I was young, okay.” Mickey snapped back at Ian, his face getting redder and redder, eyes wide and round. “That’s the reason why my mom had me join the cub scouts for me to get over my fear of raccoons and whatever wild animals are out there!”

“Raccoons? Like those cute trash pandas?”

“They are not cute, Ian. Oh my god!” Mickey cried out, stomping away from the car. “One of them almost attacked me while I was taking out the trash one night.” he looked back at Ian, face all flushed, eyes sharp as daggers. “I ran for my life cause I’m pretty sure that cute trash panda you’ve been calling them snarled at me! I just fucking threw our trash outside the street, don’t even care where the hell it landed. And now you expect me to believe there’s nothing bigger and nastier than raccoons where we’re going?”

Ian scoffed off a laugh, hands going above the curve of his hips. He shook his head, mind reeling with genuine disbelief with this information. He dropped his head on his chest and bit his lip. _Mickey is afraid of raccoons._ He never would’ve guessed that. Ever. 

Mickey remained standing at the front of the car, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m seriously questioning this camping trip now, Ian.”

Ian took several steps from the car, strode towards Mickey, and stood in front of him. “You don’t have to be afraid where we are going, Mick. I swear, it’s safe.” He clicks on the button of the car keys, locking it. “A lot of people have gone to High Point and there’s never been an incident of any animal attacks or anybody falling off a cliff.” Ian places his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, looking at him with a faint smile. “Not unless, somebody intentionally pushes somebody over it, then there's going to be an incident.” 

A beat of silence passed before Mickey tilted his head to the sky, untangled his arms from his chest, took off his glasses and rubbed the back of his hand on his eyes. He breathed out and closed his eyes, swallowing down the thick saliva that pooled in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I can’t believe you’re bringing me somewhere where we can be killed by wild animals, Ian.” He weakly says.

Ian rubbed Mickey’s shoulders, the motion going up and down to his biceps then back to his shoulders. His eyes softened further as he stared at his boyfriend’s distressed face, “It’s going to be fine, Mick. I swear.” he brushed a finger on his jawline, his thumb forcing his head lightly to look down. “Hey. Everything will be fine.”

Mickey let out a huge breath from his nose, “You promise?”

“I promise.” Ian said amusedly, “And also, for what it’s worth, if there’s going to be wild animals tonight while we’re sleeping, you can throw me at them so they won’t get to eat you.” 

Mickey groaned loudly, dropping his head on Ian’s chest, his glasses pressing on his collarbone. “You’re not helping, Ian.”

Ian chuckled, “Look, I wouldn't have become an eagle scout if I didn’t know my way around the mountain, baby.”

“Ugh, what does that have to do with being eaten alive by wolves or bears, Ian?” Mickey half grumbled-half mumbled on his chest. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Mickey.” Ian laughed softly on Mickey's head. “So darn cute and ridiculous.”

“Jessuz. Now you tell me I’m cute when I’m fucking freaking out with where we are going, asshole.” Mickey grumbled.

“C’mere.” He swung his arms over Mickey’s shoulders, “I promise. If there is any indication of danger or when you’re not having any fun later, we’ll leave immediately. No questions asked.” Ian gripped Mickey’s body tighter, “Hey,” Ian nudges Mickey’s face with his chin, “I won’t let anything bad happen to us, okay. We got two days.”

Mickey moved closer, taking half a step forward until the tips of their feet were touching. He nudged his nose on the crook of Ian’s neck, breathing his scent in. “Two days. There better be no raccoons or bears out there or else,” Mickey murmured on the soft skin under his ear. “I’m leaving.”

“No bears. No raccoons.” Ian nuzzled his cheek on Mickey’s hair. “Just you and me and the moon tonight, Mick. I promise.” his hands slipping on his waist. 

Mickey sucked in a breath then exhaled quickly, his shoulders rising and falling on Ian’s chest. He tilted his head up, opening his eyes at Ian’s face who seemed to be already looking at him. Mickey stared for a moment at his boyfriend’s impossibly bright green eyes, the light coming off from it sending sparks of signals in his brain, the sides of his lips began to lift slowly involuntarily. He knew it was a lost battle when he saw one and he just had to surrender and trust Ian.

He raised his eyebrows and said slowly, “Alright, let’s go to High Point.” 

July 16, 2007

10:28 AM

He tapped his knuckles on the door of room 201 that has always remained unlocked during office hours. Mickey waved his hand at Jason who nodded and motioned for him to sit down while he finished his meeting with another student. He smiled, walking to the long chair on the opposite side of the wall facing the counselor’s desks. He pulled out his phone, opening his Facebook app while he waited for Jason to call his name. Mickey scrolled through his dash, his thumb pressing upwards fast on the green button of his Blackberry, as his eyes tried to find something interesting in his feed. 

A few of his friends are posting their plans for the summer break. Alice will be going to Michigan with her girlfriend Kristen to visit her family, and supposedly finally introduce Alice to them and announce they’re going out together, exclusively for some time now. Mickey commented on Alice’s post that only read _‘So nervous’_ with _‘you got this, A.’_ then hit send. 

On Brian’s page, there was a photo of him, Marge and Troy wearing large, beige straw hats, mouths grinning widely at the camera. The caption on the picture says _Puerto Vallarta on our minds_ . The group decided to go to Mexico for two weeks, somewhat celebrating their upcoming final year in school in the following term. Sophia commented on the post with just two words _I’m in!_

She hasn’t told Mickey about her plans, probably deciding on impulse when she saw the happy group photo with the attached caption. And of course, Soph will jump into whatever opportunity to have fun with their friends anytime. Mickey sighs, pushing his glasses up by his index finger. His friends don't actually have anything that will keep them in the city during the summer. Heck, they all deserve a vacation to be honest. But Mickey can’t really tag along, can’t really leave the city in the next couple of months until the new term starts in the Fall. He just had to postpone all the fun stuff for now, maybe even longer than later.

Mickey slightly jumped out from his seat when he heard his name being called out by Jason. His head whipped up to the sound and saw Jason smiling at him, waving him over to his desk. Just as he was about to grab his backpack off the floor, he heard his phone ping and saw that Ian had sent him a text. Mickey decided to check it out later and shoved his mobile inside his front pocket and then stood up from the long chair . 

“Mick, hey. You can come over now.” his course counselor announced in the room. 

There was another student beside him and she moved her bag out of the way as Mickey walked over to Jason’s desk.

“Hi there, Mickey.” Jason’s left hand reaches out to him just as he sits on the empty chair in front of his councilor’s table. 

“Hey, Jason.” Mickey extended his right hand which Jason shook eagerly.

“How’s it been? Heard you’ve been doing great with your classes.”

“Uhm, yeah.” He unconsciously scratched his neck, fixing his glasses on his nose, then looked down on his lap. “Yeah, thanks.” 

“You don’t be shy about your accomplishments, Mickey. We are regularly updated on all the students in the program, and I’ve seen how you were doing the whole year. Not gonna lie, I’m very impressed with your performance, and so is Mike. He’s looking forward to having you again in his class next year. Congratulations, man.” 

Professor Mike Montgomery is Jason’s older brother who teaches Building Technology I, II, II and IV. Mickey was the only exempted student in his class to not take the finals and Professor Montgomery has never exempted anybody since 1998. Or so, he heard. 

Word started going around that he was an early pick for the internship at Gensler and was being mentored by Professor O’Brien. He was expecting a lot of backlash, like some students may think he’s getting this opportunity by doing favors, something extra, like in a sexual way. But to his surprise, everybody has been supportive. Some random people who are not in his class, even in his year reach out to congratulate him. He was always not good with the extra attention, trying to shy away from huge crowds of strangers, quite content with just being with himself or with his circle of friends that he trusted and cared for a lot. 

Mickey has to wrap his head around the idea that maybe he’s special, not special that he would require care or coddling, but that he was different, that maybe he’s got this certain path that he is meant to traverse, and that path will lead him to something good, maybe even great. He gave Jason a small smile, somewhat acknowledging his praise for him.

“Please tell Mr. Montgomery thank you for exempting me from our finals. I really didn’t expect it.”

“You did all the work, Mick. All the professor has to do is grade your work and if you did everything right, you’ll get an A. And consistently, in all your classes, you got all aces, man.” Jason wiggled his left eyebrow quickly, “We don’t usually have students like you, Mick. Most just go to City Tech to get a diploma, not even thinking of their grades or possible good commendations from their professors for their future work. Conrad mentoring you means he cares a lot for your future. He saw potential in you, and for sure he’ll certainly do whatever he can to help you get the best opportunities out there.” he twirls a pen in between his thumb and index finger, “And I’m sure you will not let him down. Am I right?”

“Yes, of course. This is like a once in a lifetime thing for me.”

“I’m sure you will not waste this chance or time, Mickey. You just have to keep on doing the work, follow Conrad’s advice. If you want to take extra classes or some seminars, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

Mickey clears his throat, “Speaking of extra class..” he brought out his notebook from his backpack, “you mentioned in our first meeting that I could do the double duty course for my program. I think.. I mean, I would like to do a few classes if that’s still possible.”

Jason smiled and clapped his hands, then rubbed his palms together, “Oh wow, I never thought you’d seriously do this. Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah. I’ve thought about it for some time now.”

“Mick, this is a very good decision, to be honest. Doing double classes is not as bad as some people think.” Jason turned his gaze to his computer and moved the mouse tiny circular motions on his mouse pad, “You want to check out which classes your program is offering this summer?” he started typing, his fingers flying over his keyboard.

“Yeah, please. Let’s do that, Jason.”

“Alright, cool. First, I need to know how many hours you want to spend each day in school, ‘cause as you can see,” He presses enter then flips the screen towards Mickey, “there’s some morning classes and very few evening classes in your program.”

“Uhm, I would like to do as much as I can. There’s really..” he let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t really have plans during the summer. I mean…”

“Okay, I get it. Being single and alone in a big city? I get it. Lots of time on your hands.”

“Oh, I..” a slow blush starts creeping on his cheeks, “I’m actually not single.”

“No shit!” Jason leaned back from his chair, then grinned at him with raised eyebrows, “Cool. That’s so cool, Mickey.”

“Uhm, yeah. Thank you.”

“I hope she’s okay with you being MIA a lot with school and stuff during the break.” Jason quirked an eyebrow at him, “I mean once I get you in, you’ll have loads of work to do and you might get conflicted with some activities she might want to do..”

“Well, it’s actually a he, not a she.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I.. have a boyfriend, not a girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine. That’s actually cool, Mickey. No judgments here, just saying.” Jason smiled softly, leaning forward on his desk, resting both his elbows on top of it. “Since we’re being candid now, I’m an openly bisexual guy myself. And I appreciate that you were comfortable enough to tell me this information.” he clasped his hands together in front of him, “If there’s anything that you need help with, like lgbtq+ organizations, any programs, support groups… uhm, and let’s hope it will not come to this, any legal assistance in the near future, please don’t hesitate to come to me.” He grabs a pen then starts writing on a post-it. “Here,” Jason hands a yellow post-it note to Mickey, “that’s my personal phone number. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call or send me a message.”

“I...” Mickey said softly, eyes casting down to his hands holding the post-it, “T-thank you.”

“I know how hard it is for a young queer man out there. And personally, I was just lucky to have a very supportive family and friends who never judged me and who just let me find out what I truly am. If I can be that same person to somebody, I think I’ve done my job as a counselor quite well.” 

Jason waited for a beat, then tilted his head, offering Mickey an assuring smile.

Mickey places his hand holding the post-it on top of his thigh then purses his lips, making a tight smile. He stared at the note, Jason’s neat handwriting with his number looking back at him. He lifted his eyes at his counselor and gulped. 

Jason raised an eyebrow at the young student and said slowly, cocking his head at the side “So, you said you wanted to take some classes this summer, right?” He picked up a pen then started gently tapping on the screen, “Alright, here’s what we have for you..”

It took them twenty minutes to set up his classes, Jason had him sign up with ones that they both thought would work for the schedule Mickey gave him. He decided to take four classes, all of which would require him to be in school for five days, from nine o’clock in the morning until four in the afternoon. And that doesn’t include the extra work he had to do, like going to different boroughs in the metropolis for location surveys and doing construction documentation in some buildings. Professor Montgomery already told him this, and he’ll be having him this summer.

“Alright, so these,” Jason hands him a printed out copy of his courses “are the four classes that you will need to register for.”

Mickey reached out his hand and looked down on the piece of paper, eyes going over the classes, one is for Jason’s brother and another one that he was excited to take, Architectural Technology. Conrad had mentioned if he was interested in getting a master’s degree in Architecture, this is the class that he really should be serious about. He smoothed his palms over his thighs, his palms suddenly sweating.

“Drop by Beth at the registrar’s office so she can put your name in before they close for lunch. Also, don’t forget to email your grant donor that you decided to do double course classes starting this semester. Nothing formal, just give them a heads up about your plans, okay. But I’m sure the Financial Aids office will also inform them of your registration for these four courses. Once you receive your schedule and you have any questions, feel free to come back to me.” Jason winked at him, making Mickey softly chuckle.

He sighed loudly, “So, I’m really doing this huh?”

Jason snickered, tilting his head to the side, “It’s your call, Mick. Whatever you want to do, it’s perfectly fine. This is part of my job, to help guide students to which direction they want to take and give the best options for them. And as I’ve said, this is a good decision on your part, Mickey.”

He brushed the side of his face up to his jaw, scratching his neck, “But I can always change my mind right, if things get...busy.”

“If things get hectic for you, yeah, sure. We can lessen your load then decide which courses would best benefit you at the moment.”

“Shit,” Mickey rolled his neck, then snapped his eyes at Jason. He looked at him with wide eyes, his cheeks quickly heating up, “I’m sorry. I didn’t.. Uhm, I dunno why I’m so nervous.”

Jason huffed a laugh, “Hey, no worries Mickey. I get it. Big decisions often come with being nervous and scared. And being scared is good, because it means that you’re doing something life changing.”

“Yeah.. yeah, maybe.” He whispered. Mickey squeezed his thigh then stood up, holding his hand out to Jason. “T-thank you. I really appreciate your help, Jason.”

Jason leaned forwards and pushed his chair backward, the chair sliding with a faint screech. “No problem, Mickey.” clasping the student’s hand with his left, shaking it firmly “I’m glad you came to me about this. I’m very proud of you.” 

Mickey gave him a shy smile, releasing his counselor’s hand then ducked down to get his backpack off the floor. “Uhm, yeah, thanks again.” swinging his bag to his shoulders. “I’ll be going to Miss Beth now.”

“Sure, sure.” Jason looks at his watch, his right hand waving him off, “Damn, you gotta hurry. They’ll close soon.”

Mickey nods, giving him a thumbs up as he turns around walking out of the office. There were not many students in the corridors that day, probably because most classes have ended a day prior and all that's left are the ones that needed extra credit for a class or are running late to submit some projects. He strode past the elevator and took the steps to the stairs two at a time until he reached the first floor where the registrar’s office is. Mickey held the paper Jason gave him in his hands as he found himself standing in the same spot almost a year ago, his eyes staring at the woman, who’s already smiling at him. 

“Mister Milkovich, been a long time.”

The subway was packed that afternoon, everyone was antsy and tense. Mickey can quite literally feel the brimming energy of frustration and dread from the people around him. There was a dissonant cry from the crowd when the train finally arrived after being late for eighteen minutes. Everybody but him was rushing inside the cable car, his body being pushed around, bumping into strangers' bodies, almost toppling over, until he finally got his bearings and went inside, his back leaning on one of the grab railings, his hand clasping his mobile. 

He had been looking at Ian’s message and the photo attached with it. He was grinning widely at the camera, a pair of black rimmed glasses on top of his nose. 

Mickey snorts then reads the text again.

Ian: We’re samesies now, Mick. I can’t wait for you to see me in it. I’ll be dropping by on Friday, baby. It’s finally the summer break, can’t wait to see you!

He smiled, touching the surface of his phone’s screen. His thumb making an outline of Ian’s face, his hair that seemed to have gotten longer now, the ridiculously large matte black rimmed glasses he’s wearing, his lips, his strong chin, his neck. Mickey turned his eyes out to the window, his foot taking a step closer to the large square fiberglass near the door. He let his head lean onto it, his hand gripping the handrail tightly as the train rocked back and forth. 

There is just something with watching things go by, like you get fascinated with being immovable while the others just go about and do their business, not knowing what is happening beyond their space, their bodies, their minds. He tries to catch their every movement as the train passes them by, like Mickey was suddenly curious how it is being them for a moment. 

At 50 miles per hour, Mickey is certain that nobody can actually see him or even notice him. He can just stay like that, stationary, window watching people. But it came to a surprise to Mickey as they passed by Barclay Street near the World Trade Center, when a young girl, probably about four or five years old, standing at the corner of the road with her mother, her small hands clutching on her skirt, her fiery red hair tied in pigtails, smiling at him. Mickey jerked, his eyebrows raising high on his forehead. He smiled widely back at her and raised his hand making a small wave, Mickey obviously knew she wouldn't be seeing it. But she jumped, seeming to be squealing in delight as she started pointing at the passing train, like she was also surprised someone saw her amidst the moving metal of a machine before her. 

He chuckled, then licked his lips, tugging it between his teeth. Mickey suddenly got excited for some reason, like maybe even if he remained still, motionless, he could still be seen like the little girl with the pigtails. He turned his gaze back to his hand, the one holding his phone, that’s getting warmer and warmer as he held onto it firmly, like he’s afraid he’ll forget about it and the image showing right now on its screen. Mickey pushes the green button and hits reply.

Mickey: You look so cute, babe. Can’t wait to see you. 

July 21, 2007

8:15 AM

He could barely keep his eyes open, the scene before him almost unbearable to look at. 

In between his legs is a flaming lock of curly hair, bobbing up and down on his groin. Mickey hadn’t even had the chance to close the door behind him, even had to drop his bike on the floor when he felt Ian’s strong arms shoving him on the wall. 

“Ian, what the fuck…”

They had just done a bike ride around Central Park, both of them barely having any sleep the night before. Ian had woken him up with a hand job while sucking on the skin on his throat, making a huge hickey, huge enough that even if he wears a turtleneck shirt, which is impossible to do during the summer, a part of the purply red bruise can still be seen on his neck. 

Mickey was half awake when Ian was doing those lascivious ministrations on his body. He may have thought that he was dreaming it all, that maybe his muddled mind was still in this tranquil state, making him think there was something delicious occurring on his body. It took his brain a few minutes to register what was really going on when he came, mind and body suddenly fully awake when he made a mess on himself with a loud shout. 

Ian had insisted it, saying he had missed sharing this activity with Mickey. He was feeling nostalgic, he said, as it has been months since he had Mickey this way. Them pedaling together, Ian seeing his boyfriend’s taut muscles, his legs extending and flexing, face bright and shiny with sweat, with the sun beating down on them hard, as they rode through the streets of Manhattan to Central Park. 

He taps him on the shoulders, “Ian.. stop.” he shakily said.

Ian had got his hands at the back of Mickey’s thighs, gripping the meat of it to keep them upright for him as he licked his tongue on the underside of Mickey’s cock. There is a trail of spit dripping down his chin and neck, and he doesn’t mind it, doesn’t even care if he looks so gross right now. All he wants, needs is to have his mouth on Mickey.

“Ian...fuck.” He choked. 

Mickey could feel his knees shaking. His shorts that Ian had yanked hurriedly down his thighs a few minutes ago are bundled up down his legs sticking on his skin, heavy and wet with his sweat and grime. He wanted to kick it off from him, make it more comfortable for him, for Ian. If only Ian could stop doing this... this thing with his mouth so he could maybe take it off together with his soiled shoes. 

He reaches his hand to Ian’s jaw, his fingertips feeling it tensing and untensing as his mouth makes a hollow vacuum, lips circled around his cock in perfect O, sucking him with expert ease, until Mickey can actually see stars at the back of his closed lids. The stupid fake glasses he had on is all fogged up, and is sitting on his nose lopsided. Mickey lifts it off Ian’s face and tosses it to his side as a loud moan escapes his lips, the back of his head hitting the wall as his eyes rolled back with pleasure.

He was feeling heady, his nose being assaulted head on by Mickey’s musky, slightly salty scent. His tongue tastes everything, all of him, and Ian can’t get enough of it, even if they had just made love twice last night and once before they went out a couple of hours ago.

“Jessuz, Ian. Can’t we…” he stammered out, his knees almost buckling, nudging the side of Ian’s face thumb, “Baby,” Mickey swallowed, “P-please get up. We can do this in my bed.” 

Ian takes the hint, his mouth making a slurping sound as he uncoils his lips on Mickey’s dick. He climbs up over Mickey’s body, hands already roving all over his chest, back, on the swell of his ass, hiking his boyfriend up until their faces and groins are aligned. 

“Oh my god.” 

He reaches in between Mickey’s thighs and takes him in his hand. Ian started pumping up and down, hurried and frantic, wasn’t even aware that he was shaking, his kisses on his boyfriend’s lips, jaws and neck frantic, his breathing erratic, like he’s out of control. 

Mickey groans, hips rocking to meet Ian’s hands on his cock. The friction from Ian’s hands with just spit jerking him is close to painful, but he’s loving it, loving the fact that Ian is falling apart by making him feel good.

Ian grips Mickey's head firmly with his other hand, his fingers pulling at the ends of his short hair, forcefully tipping his head up, as his lips mercilessly suck on the skin beside his Adam’s apple and any random skin available that his mouth can assault.

“Baby, I’m..” Mickey stutters out, and pulls his glasses off his face, that has risen up to his forehead, then dropped them on the floor. There’s actually no use for them now, when all he’s seeing is _Ian Ian Ian._

“Don’t cum.” Ian growls, nipping the side of his jaw. “Don’t fucking cum.” his hand gripping the base Mickey’s dick, squeezing it, making his boyfriend wince. He whispered lowly, “You wait ‘til you have me inside you.”

“I-ian..please.” 

He was supposed to feel pain, or maybe feel uncomfortable with the way Ian is holding his hard and engorged cock so hard. But he’s just so turned on that he ignores it, just takes it, takes what Ian wants to do to his body.

They started walking, maybe even stumbling from the wall beside Mickey’s front door, his back bumping repeatedly from his couch to his small round breakfast table, to the edge of his bed once Ian had successfully maneuvered their bodies to his bedroom.

“Fuck, you’re still lose from last night right?” Ian asks, fumbling to lift Mickey’s shirt off his head, his other hand immediately going down his rumpled shorts, tugging them off his legs, together with his socks and shoes. 

Mickey lays naked at the center of the bed, legs sprawled out with Ian sitting on his thighs in between the V of his legs. 

He stared at the handiwork of his mouth, taking a moment to look at the multiple blue, purple, red bruises scattered on Mickey’s chest, stomach and thighs. Ian touches them, one by one, pressing his fingertips lightly on each and every one of them until he has lifted himself up from his position, body settling on top of his boyfriend. He kisses the new bruises he just made, the ones on his throat and the sides of his neck, all staring at him angrily, looking oh so beautiful.

Ian mouths underneath Mickey’s jaw, his breath hot and wet on his skin. His hands began to rove, relentlessly touching just about anything he could hold. Ian wound his right arm under Mickey’s armpit up to his back, hands holding his head steady, the other pulling his lover’s leg, hooking it up to his hips. Ian started grinding, circling his pelvis, their groins aligning perfectly. The sensitive heads of their cocks brushing, dual loud groans can be heard all throughout the small room. 

“Shit, you’re so gorgeous.” he murmurs at the crook of Mickey’s neck.

There has been a desperation on Ian lately, the way he touches him, the way he kisses him, the way he fucks into him. It was always soft, gentle, like Mickey is made of glass, his hands almost bordering into hesitation, like he can break anytime with just the weight of them. But as soon as Ian came to his apartment last night, he could tell something was off.

“Ian,” Mickey swallows, “what is going on?”

“I want to fuck you.” he bites on the soft skin on Mickey’s shoulder, “I need you now.”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. You can fuck me, Ian. You… fuck me all you want.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying, praying that the tremors would die down. His heart is about to break free from his chest cavity with the way it's hammering in his chest. Ian is not about to beg, but he knew he sounded needy, his body shaking with want.

“Ian, baby, what’s going on?”

Mickey reached to the side of his neck, cupping Ian’s jaws, forcing it to move up to, and noticed the pooled tears on the seams of his closed eyes. “Why.. what is happening Ian?” 

“I need you. Please, Mick. Please..” his trembling lips said, eyes still shut tightly.

He kisses his wet eyes, his flushed cheeks, Mickey’s thumbs brushing the moisture tenderly. “Don’t cry, I’m here. I’m here, Ian.”

Ian hiccups, a split second of opening his eyes suddenly made his tears drip down Mickey’s nose, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” closing his lids again, bringing his hand up, wiping his wayward tears off Mickey’s open face and then to his wet eyes. He takes off all his clothes, throwing them at the side of the bed, then laid on top of his boyfriend.

“I just… I’ve been missing you like crazy.” He nuzzles his cheeks on Mickey’s temples, “And I...I can’t believe I’m actually here, that you’re finally in my arms again.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ian. I’ll always be here.”

“I,” He doesn’t finish, doesn’t even know if he should tell Mickey now. 

“What, what is it Ian?”

He shakes his head, not sure if the moment is right. Maybe later, when they’re both tired and sated, when he can maybe just whisper it to him as he is about to sleep from their lovemaking, when his brain only knows Ian. And that maybe he too can forget what he should be telling him, why he misses him, why he will be missing Mickey after this weekend.

Ian grabbed the almost empty bottle of lube and smeared the liquid on his fingers. He shoves two fingers into Mickey’s heat, scissoring them, until the walls are loose and malleable. He licks the top of Mickey's chest up to his chin before diving in, kissing his boyfriend properly on the mouth.

“Ian.” Mickey gasps when he hooked his fingers in the right angle, his knees going up higher, the soles of his feet digging into Ian’s back. 

He knows what Ian is doing, he’s doing this to distract him, to make him feel so good he’ll forget that Ian almost had a meltdown while they’re making out. But, he wants to give it to him, just give Ian whatever he wants. 

“Fuck me. Ian, just fuck me.”

He can’t breath. 

Ian buries his head on Mickey’s chest, willing his breathing to start. His hand that was just in between Mickey’s ass cheeks, fumbled on the condom stuck on his boyfriend’s leg, ripping it open with his gritted teeth. He rolls it on his stiff cock and starts spreading the excess lube on his hand. He hesitates, the first time in the last fourteen hours he’s been with Mickey. Ian hesitated to slide into Mickey’s warm, wet hole and he doesn’t know why.

Mickey arches up, grinding his hips forward, trying to rub their groins together, “Ian, please. I’m ready.”

“Mickey, I’m taking off the condom.” He says unblinkingly to Mickey, their foreheads resting on each other, “I want to fuck you bare.”

Mickey nodded, closing his eyes with how intense Ian was staring at his face. “Take it off,” he whispers, “I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t care.”

Ian caresses Mickey’s cheeks, “I haven’t, Mick. If that’s what you’re thinking. You’re the only one.”

He still had his eyes closed shut, lips somewhat quivering. Mickey doesn’t know, and he’s scared and angry that he was thinking of this now.

“I don’t care, Ian. Just fuck me, please.” 

“Mick?” Ian murmurs, eyes not leaving Mickey’s face.

He huffed, squeezing his thighs on Ian’s body then flipped them over. Mickey felt his lips and mouth going dry, he held his breath, eyes meeting Ian’s. 

“I’m..I’m clean. Haven’t been with anybody else but you.”

Ian swallows, brows furrowing “Did you think...Mick. Seriously?”

Mickey bends his chin down, clearing his throat that closely resembled a small sob. He pulls out the condom from Ian’s hard dick, “You’re going to feel everything.” bending down to the side to get more of the lube and spreads it on his cock in one swift motion. 

He was shaking.

This is not what Ian was expecting, Mickey thinking he was ever with someone, like doubting him. He squeezes his boyfriend’s hip who’s sitting on top of him, “Hey,” leaning up, planting his elbows on the bed, “It has always been just you, Mickey. No one else.”

He finally looks up at Ian’s face, “I trust you.” pushing his body forward, placing a kiss on his lips, “I trust you.” angling Ian’s slicked cock into his hole.

Ian groans as he felt the first push of the warm heat on his dick, fingers digging on the meatiest part of his hip. He closes his eyes, mouth sucking in a huge breath as Mickey sinks onto him slowly, centimeter by centimeter, further and further until he sits on top of him completely. 

“Mick.” his voice said lowly.

“Ian.” Mickey half moans.

“Shit...fuck.” he breathlessly says.

His thighs were already trembling with good it felt, Ian filling him fully. He tipped his chin up, licked his lips as he tried to rock his hips, getting a bit more friction. 

Ian grits his teeth, digging in deeper on Mickey’s hip, for sure making more marks on his smooth, white skin, “Don’t move yet. Don’t… fucking move.” a trickle of sweat slides down his cheek, “Mick, jessuz. I think I’m going to die.”

Mickey places a hand on Ian’s right thigh and leans back, making the angle more delicious.

“Fuck, I need you to touch me if you’re not gonna let me move.” he was looking at the ceiling, eyes almost rolling out of its sockets. “Tell me when...I need more, Ian.” he brings his hand to his dick unconsciously, Ian flicking it off. 

“Don’t touch yourself. Just give me a fucking second.” Ian growls, blows the breath he was holding.

He opens his eyes slowly, pupils all blown and wild looking at the sight in front of him. Mickey was sitting back, his parted thighs bracing his hips. Ian leans his body up, until he’s almost sitting and wraps his left arm around Mickey’s back, his right hand digging into the bed as he pushes his butt back, lifting their bodies up in one quick motion until his back hits the headboard. “You wanna fucking ride me? Ride me while we’re looking face to face.”

Mickey stares at him, eyes blazing, thighs still bracketing Ian’s hips. He places both his hands on top of the headboard then sits up on his knees. The tip of Ian’s dick the only thing inside of him. 

Ian gasped, eyes looking down on their groins, Mickey pulling off, the swollen head of his cock almost popping out of his ass. He groans, the muscles around Mickey’s ass twitching a bit around the remaining part of him inside of his lover. 

“Mick.. please.” he whines.

In one sinking motion, Mickey takes him, up and down, slowly at first, tentative, as if his body is trying to figure out which position and pace is better, best for him, for them. 

He finally gets his rhythm, thrusting himself on Ian’s cock in a silent beat. He bounced, his almost tired thighs lifting himself up, jamming Ian’s hard cock into him repeatedly. His arms begin to hurt with the strain of holding himself up then forcefully slamming his ass back down to Ian’s groin. Mickey brings both his hands on top of Ian’s chest, palms flat on his pectorals, his blunt fingernails digging into the skin. He continued his ministrations, until he couldn’t bare it anymore, how worked up he is, how turned on, wanting to do everything for Ian, but his body is tired from all the fucking they’ve been doing for the last few hours. 

Ian could tell Mickey was close, with the way he was panting, hips already thrusting lazily, rocking his body uncoordinatedly. He was trembling, thighs and stomach shaking with exertion.

“Baby, put your hands around my neck. I got you.” 

Mickey slumped on top of him, face resting on the crook of his neck. Ian heard him whine when he pulled back a little then started pumping his hips up to him, both his arms circling around his back. 

He uses his last remaining strength to ram his cock into Mickey’s hole as fast and as hard as he could. Everything, all of this, with his pliable boyfriend on top of him, not even attempting to move with his every thrust, with a thin gentle stream of saliva dripping on his back, hearing his soft moans coming out from his half opened mouth is just so beautiful to him. 

Ian was almost there too, just a few more and he’s gone too. He slides one of his arms up, gripping the back of Mickey’s neck so he could look at him as they both chase their climax. 

“Mick, baby. Look at me.”

He was so exhausted, he even thought he was about to pass out a few seconds ago. But he knows he can do it, he can lift his tired lids and look at the face of his lover as he, they orgasm together. With a hooded gaze, his blue eyes met the green ones that he loved so much. He burrowed his eyebrows, the familiar coiling in his gut creeping in fast.

“I..”.

Mickey’s eyes go wide as warm, copious spurts suddenly come out from his cock, making a mess on their stomachs and chests, some even reaching the side of Ian’s chin. His hole begins to clench around him, Ian had to bite his lip to hide a loud groan. One, two more thrusts and Ian was himself shooting into Mickey’s heat, his cock twitching with each burst. 

They laid like that, his sweaty back pressed on the headboard, Mickey on top of him, foreheads pushed closely on to each other. After a few minutes, he thought he heard a soft snore coming out from Mickey. Ian smiled.

He puckered his lips on Mickey’s, tugging on the bottom ones until he could feel him stir.

“Hey, you want to take a bath?”

“I don’t think I can stand, Ian.” he weakly said, his lips barely moving.

Ian smirks, “I didn’t know you had such low stamina, Mick. I should've taken it easy with you then.”

“Fuck you and your stamina. What are you, some kind of fucking energizer bunny?”

He snickers, “You’re the only one I get to test where my stamina would take me. And fuck it if I don’t want to fuck my boyfriend every hour of the day.”

“Try being a bottom, asshole. Then tell me if you can do every hour of every fucking day.”

“Is it…” Ian asks, concern written on his voice, “does it hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m sore, not hurt. My ass burns like a motherfucker whenever we have these,” Mickey waves his hand weakly, “dick to ass sessions.” 

“Alright,” He lifts Mickey’s body off him, his now soft dick coming out from his hole, a small amount of his cum dripped down the side of his thighs. Mickey winces as he lays him down, his thighs closing automatically when he turns to the side. 

“Where are you going?” he nuzzles his cheeks on his soiled pillows. Mickey frowned, smelling the funky scent of his pillow case. _Fuck_. He has to remind himself to do the laundry later. His sheets are getting stinky and stained with all their sweat and cum.

“I’m making us a bath. Hold on a minute, don’t doze off on me.” He places a kiss in between Mickey’s eyebrows then saunters to the bathroom rummaging through the small cabinet under the sink. 

He opens the tap and fills the tub with warm water about two-thirds to the brim, dropping a few dollops of the vanilla scented bubble bath into it, his hand sloshing to and fro until a fair amount of bubbles appears.

Ian went back to the bedroom and found a half-awake Mickey looking back at him with tired eyes, one of his arms dangling on the side of the bed. 

“Hmm, you’re too tired to stand, huh?”

“I can't even move my limbs, you jerk.”

“Right.”

He took a few steps to the bed, scooting down, and lifted Mickey up, bridal way. Ian hooked his arms underneath his armpits and behind his knees, the muscles in his arms straining with Mickey’s weight. 

“Oof. What the fuck, Ian?”

“I’m gonna take care of you and your sore little ass.” He smiled cheekily at him, “I got us a bath.”

“There’s nothing small about my ass, Ian. Some might even say it’s glorious.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He moves sideways, making sure Mickey’s head doesn't hit anything, “Glorious, I agree. But somebody still needs to take care of them, and obviously it’s gonna be me and nobody else.”

“Sure, sure Mr. Devoted to making sure my ass is not inflamed and sore from all the fucking we’ve been doing.”

“Stand up, please.” Ian drops Mickey’s legs gently on the tiled floor, holding on to his hips where the fingertip bruises he gave him were. 

Mickey plants both his feet on the cold floor, standing there wobbling, knees shaking a bit.

Ian pecks him on the nose then goes in first, making sure to part his legs wide enough for Mickey to fit in.

He slowly steps into the tub filled with bubbly water and lays his back on top of Ian’s front, scooting his butt in the V of his long legs, until the swell of his ass fitting perfectly in between his groin. He hums as Ian splays some of the bubbly water on his stomach and chest, watching the little transparent, circular sphere popping on his skin. 

“Ian.”

“Hmm?”

“What happened a while ago? It seemed like I lost you for a moment, like you went somewhere.”

Ian sighs, he tilted his head upwards, hooking his chin on top of Mickey’s head.

“They’re sending me to Paris next month.”

Mickey stills his hands that are making small circles on the surface of the water. He swallows, suddenly aware that his hands are hanging on the water for too long without moving. He decided on just placing his hands on top of Ian’s thighs, his thumbs brushing on the wet, sparse hair on his knees.

“What do you mean, for vacation?” He says softly.

“No,” Ian stared at the white ceiling, noticing the mildew building up at the corners of the walls. “I’m going there for a year, and then go back to Yale by the first semester of my junior year.” he grips Mickey’s chest, pressing him closer to his body, “It's for the company. My dad wanted me to experience the programs they have in Europe, just in case.. for when I get to manage the whole company someday.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to go, Mick.” the tone of Ian’s voice changes, like he’s angry and sad at the same time, “But I have to.”

He puts his hand on top of Ian, lacing their fingers together.

“I.. I also have to tell you something.” he breathes deeply, his chest rising on top of Ian’s wide torso. “I got an early acceptance for an internship in California and…” lifting his other hand to his chest, holding on to their laced hands, “I’ve accepted it. May need to move there for a while until I’m done with my internship or for when they offer me a job in the company.” 

“Which company?”

“Gensler.”

“I know that company.” He smiled, “They made the biggest profit last year with their Dubai projects. I know his great grandson, Richard. We played polo when we were young.” Ian huffed, “A real prick though, but a good horse rider.”

“Do all you rich people know each other?”

Ian snickers, “Not necessarily, but we all knew who matters in the industry. Because one way or the other, we will all be working together in some projects in the future.”

“Okay. Is Johnson coming with you?”

“No, just me and mom.”

“Your mom will be staying with you?”

“She says...she has to be with me to keep me focused.”

“We’ll be moving farther apart now. It’s not just gonna be a train ride.” He rested his head on the junction of Ian’s neck and shoulder, “But different continents, different time zones too.” letting out a shaky breath.

“I know.” stroking Mickey’s chest steadily from the center of his collarbones down to his sternum, fingertips light and careful, “So damn far apart.”

He kisses the top of Mickey's head, cheeks nuzzling on his forehead. 

“Congratulations, Mick. You deserve that internship. That’s a damn good company.”

“Conrad..uhm, Mr. O’Brien got me in. He said I shouldn’t waste my potential in City Tech.” Mickey cranes his neck to nip on Ian’s jaw, “Go learn how to speak French in Paris and start wooing me with French. I do always have the hots for European men.”

“European men.” he pinches the small nub on Mickey’s left chest . “Are you.. I’m half Irish and half Italian, asshole. Have the hots for European men,” He scoffed, “You’re only allowed to have the hots for me, Mick. No one else.”

“Not when you’re fucking me until I’m sore and about to pass out, you animal!” Mickey squirms out from his touch, water sloshing on to the walls and the floor, “Get you hands off me.” swatting Ian’s hands away from his body, “You promised to make my ass feel better.”

“Oh, baby. My baby Mickey.” his right hand holding on Mickey’s hip, holding him in place as his left hand snaked in between his thighs, until his index and middle fingers touched his perineum. He pressed on it gently, Mickey making a soft moan, “All sore and bothered because I ravished you unwillingly.” he began circling on the soft skin around his hole, careful not to dip his finger into it. “Here, I’m making it better now, right?”

“Ian, you’re making me hard again.”

“Again? Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. Whatever will I do without you for one whole year?”

“Ian, shit. You’ll fucking jerk yourself all day, thinking of this. My body,” Mickey spreads his knees apart, his hips bucking into the gentle touches, “all of this for you to take.” 

“Mickey.” Ian whispers on his temples, “I’m gonna fucking miss fucking you like this. I don’t know if I can make it.”

“You have to. You have to come back to me.”

“I will. I will, Mickey.” He could feel his heart beating so fast, pounding on to his chest. “Please wait for me, Mick. Please, wait for me.” Ian furrowed his brows, blinking the heaviness that had suddenly pooled on his eyelids. A single tear cascades down his cheek, hitting the side of Mickey’s head. “Promise me you’ll wait for me.”

Mickey pulled his hand from his thigh and entwines their fingers together on top of his taut stomach, “I promise. I’ll wait for you.”

“I love you.” He whispers in his temple, “I love so much, Mickey.”

He arches up, places a kiss at the corner of Ian’s lips, “I love you too, so god damn much I’m willing to do whatever you want.”

“Just..wait for me. That’s all I ask. I will make everything in my power for us to have this again. Whatever it takes.”

“I know, I trust you.”

He shifts Mickey’s body, making him lay sideways on him. Ian looked at his face unwavering.

They started kissing like that. Ian’s hand cupping Mickey’s jaw, their lips making languid motions, tongues licking into each other’s mouths, whispering softly their promises until the water had turned cold, the skin on their bodies wrinkly, feet getting numb with their weight and uncomfortable positions. 

There is no other place they would rather be right now, but in each other’s arms, each hearing the beatings of their hearts, both pulsing in unison, their breaths warm and moist, blowing in each other’s opened mouths. They pulled their heads back at the same time, perfectly attuned to each other’s movements. It is as if they are reading each other’s minds at the moment, both smiling widely, eyes steadfast and unchanging. 

_Blue on Green._

_Mickey and Ian._

That is all they know now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if it took a long while for me to update. i was quite busy in the last few weeks and had to do some stuff first and writing took a back seat, i apologize. but ngl, i'm really bummed about it, tbh. shout out to my very patient beta, pam. she's been very supportive with me and my writing, i owe her a damn whole lot!  
> to the people who have been reading and commenting, you guys honestly make me so happy. y'all just keep me going even though i feel so unmotivated sometimes.  
> so the boys are going in different directions and continents now huh? yikes, y'all ready for some angst or is this enough? ha!!! kidding, I'll make them have a happily ever after they deserve, in spite of... you'll know in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> ***shout out to my gallavich gc girls, you guys truly are my cheerleaders writing this fic.  
> ***stay safe. wear your masks. lots of love to y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be a WIP. I hope you guys stick around til the end. lots of love to y'all, most specially to our southside fools, Mickey and Ian.


End file.
